


Il Giglio dell'Imperatore - The Emperor's Lily

by ReginaRubie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: ACCEPTANCE IS THE KEY!, Conquest of Italy, F/M, Gen, Historical AU, Holy Roman Empire, Religious tolerance, TOLERANCE STORY, Unrequited Jorah/Daenerys - Freeform, Unrequited Love, second crusade, unrequited Drogo/Daenerys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReginaRubie/pseuds/ReginaRubie
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen is a young italian noblewoman, descendant of the mighty Julius Caesar her and her family are de facto the ruling family of the Comune of Florence.But her family's ambitions brings her where she never thought she'd end up.Sold like a brood mare to a savage sultan in the East by her brother Viserys and her father Aerys who, taking advantage of her oldest brother stay in Rome away from home, have decided to forward their plans to conquer Italy and bring shine again on their family's name with an unlikely alliance with the Sultan of Konya, in Anatolia; taken to this turkish hell she has no means to escape but her sharp mind and intuition and, though she does not know it yet,  an unknown betrothed from a far away land.Alone and forsaken by those who should have protected her, her only caring brother miles away in Rome, Daenerys must do whatever it takes to escape this place and this fate.Meanwhile Jon, nephew of Emperor Conrad III, learns of his betrothed's fate in the east and rises with his uncle and other monarchs of Europe to bring the fight to the Holy Land, free Jerusalem and save his betrothed from the sultan.What will happen when this two worlds collide?
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Jorah Mormont/Daenerys Targaryen, Khal Drogo/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 94
Kudos: 62





	1. Daenerys I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Louen_Leoncoeur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louen_Leoncoeur/gifts).



> Hellooooooo, so this work I have written because someone wouldn't stop bugging me about this idea of theirs and ended up intriguing me so much I ended up inspired and decided to actually write this.
> 
> So, thank you my friend, for this amazing idea! I surely will enjoy writing this fic smashing up historical accurancy (and inaccurancy too) and fictional characters to create this story you suggested. 
> 
> Hope you like how it turns out because I am afraid there will be no refund for you if you don't ;P
> 
> So, this is a Jonerys historical AU in which Jon is Frederick I, Holy Roman Emperor, king of Germany and Italy and many other titles, while Daenerys is an italian noblewoman from Florence. 
> 
> Hope you like it and have fun reading it!
> 
> As an afterthought I am not a native speaker, I am actually italian (which is why there will be italian sentence - translated in the end for you, don't worry - by the way) so if you have any suggestion about my writing please let me know, I greatly appreciate criticism (constructive, that is) because it'll help me better my english! So thank you in advance, and now I truly leave you with the story.
> 
> MORE IMPORTANTLY STILL!, @Swetlana has made me realize that at least the first chapters of this story may sound and be misleading for the purpose of it (so I added a tag and decided to put this important incipit note). THIS IS A TOLERANCE FIC! 
> 
> I do not believe in holy wars and I loath the bloodshed during such occurences exactly as in the crusades. 
> 
> This story does not glorify crusaders and the blood they shed as it does not justify any type of war, act of violence or non-tolerance made by whoever against others. 
> 
> IT IS A STORY ABOUT TOLERANCE, the background will be that of hate based of religious differences, sexual differences and such but our main characters (Daenerys, Irri, Jihqui, Doreah, Missandei, Jon, Tormund, ecc..) will all stand against act of intolerance, violence ecc. made based on religious, sexual or genre discrimination. 
> 
> Thank you again @Swetlana for showing you concerns so early on so that I could be able to clear the air and I hope not offend anyone further with a plot meant to do the exact opposite.

**_On historical accurancy_ **

So this work does smash together history and fiction, but there will be some inaccurancies. As for one, my friend (who is studying history, so he knows his history) will help me with accurancy and what-not. 

Some things I can already tell you will be different:

\- for one the second crusade will be won instead of lost.

\- Jerusalem will be in the hold of the christians as the crusade states

And, obviously his relationship with Daenerys who has no historical counterpart.

* * *

_Daenerys I_

She watches with her light amethyst eyes the young girls held in the barred carriage as are let out by their jailers. 

There are girls younger than her and girls older than her. Some of them have dark skin, other pale as moonlight; some have golden hair, some brown and some red, but they all have the same look in their eyes. 

_Fear._

The youngest of them all must have nine or ten years at most, she has carioca skin and a head full of tight little ringlets of dark brown hair sticking in all directions, her eyes are big and golden, she is way too thin and she looks so very afraid that Daenerys would like nothing better than to hold her to her slightly taller frame and never let her go. To protect her. 

« _Smettila_ — her brother tells her — stop looking at them that way» 

She looks at him then. 

Some would describe him as handsome — though his beauty cannot hold even a candle to their elder brother, Rhaegar, who is now one of the most handsome cardinals in Rome — with his long silver blond hair and amethysts eyes, tall and lean. 

He moves with the grace of a practiced dancer of the _trescone_ — a lively dance in two tempos that many danced to in her homeland, Florence, a little but proud city that had been founded by the legendary Aegon Targaryen of the Roman Empire, and their ancestor, in the fertile Arno valley in the Duchy of Tuscany — and he has that air about him of confidence that Daenerys always envied him. 

Probably it comes from the fact that their _padre_ , Aerys II — signore de facto of the city — has named him his heir despite their elder brother being already well introduced in the commune’s life and politics even before Rhaegar chose to become a cardinal. 

Though he is arrogant and conceited, characteristics that Daenerys does not envy him. 

«My apologies, _fratello»_ she murmurs looking down. 

Her boots are of unmistakable princely workmanship and they would be worth — leather, laces and fur inside — perhaps even more than what the slavers would gain by selling those women, those poor, sfortunate women. _Isn't their freedom worth more than a pair of ostentatious leather boots?_ , she wonders. 

«Will they all be sold to the palace of Iconio, _fratello_?» she asks looking at him directly in the eyes — though he detests when she does so — «are they all intended for the sultan’s harem?» 

«Don’t be silly, _dolce sorella_ » her brother reprimands her, looking at her as if she is too naive for this world, too stupid to understand the coming and goings of it «Only the most beautiful and the pristine ones will be admitted in the sultan’s court as slaves» 

«Will I be a slave too?» 

He looks at her as if she is crazy «The sultan has accorded you the honor of becoming his wedded wife — he tells her — thought he asks that you convert to Islam»

Daenerys’ hand finds immediately the gold and silver crucifix she sports at her neck — the only jewel she has inherited from the mother who has died giving birth to her — her face clearly scared «I do not wish to do so» she tells him. 

«Don’t be silly — he tells her again, caressing her cheek — marrying him would mean you will be granted the title of sultana yourself especially if you give him a heir» 

«I don’t want to be his sultana, Viserys, please» she pleads «I want to go home» she adds.

_I don’t care for riches and titles, I only want to return home, to our house_ — she wants to tell him — _with the great red door and the scent of cherry trees being carried by the winds to my window_. 

«Iconio will be your new home now, _sorella»_ he tells her, his tone sweet but also brokering no replies as he leans over her and kisses her forehead «you will be a sultana and the sultan your husband will be so enchanted by you that when called for he will give us an army with the means of which we will reconquer the central Italy and who knows perhaps even Rome» 

«Rome is the residence of the Holy Father, Viserys!» she exclaims shocked «It is a holy city you cannot mean to taint that holy grounds with the infidels armies!» 

Viserys clasps his hands over her mouth «You, my dear, _adorabile sorella_ should not poke your perfect, button nose in affairs that do not concern you — he tells her — your only duty to our family and to Florence is of pleasing your husband the sultan and give him heirs so that he will want to help us when the time comes. War and politics you should leave to me and our father» he adds and his grip on her chin is so painful that Daenerys flinches in his hold as he presses a kiss on her forehead. 

«And what if I cannot please him?» she asks, she meant it to be provocative, rebellious. Though her brother's betrays he feels like she is being childish. 

«Your husband is the last rampollo of the great dynasty of the _Selgiuchidi_ — he tells her — you either please him as his wife and enjoys all the riches and pleasures that come from it, or he will have you as his slave.» 

Daenerys stays silent so he continues. 

«I don’t really care. The choice is yours, but once we arrive in Iconio you will be his to do as he pleases and if he pleases to share you with all of his private soldiers and their horses, he very well will and you will bear it all with grace and elegance and you will secure us an unbeatable ally» he adds «Are we understood, Dany?» 

His grip on her arms tightens and she nods, alarmed he will harm her «Good» he tells her and once again his tone is gentle «you should not try to provoke me, sorella. You know my rage is uncontainable once woken» 

Daenerys nods. 

«Go» he tells her gently, nudging her in the direction of her carriage, she knows her arms will be littered with bruises «Get back inside, I don’t want these men to see you too much» 

They shouldn’t even be voyaging with the caravans of the slavers, but the long weeks of travel through Europe and to Anatolia had forced Viserys to join the caravans voyaging to Iconio to enjoy the protection of the mercenaries the slavers paid to defend themselves. 

The small retinue of Florentine guards could do nothing against all those mercenaries and the disreputable subjects her brother has deemed safe to join in their travel east. Daenerys sends one last look to the poor, unlucky girls and returns inside the carriage — a wooden carriage embellished with small banners running along all of its length carrying the Florence’s coat of arms, a red buttoned lily in a silver background — where, still seated where she has left him is her brother’s mentor and dear friend, Illyrio Mopatis. 

A traveller from the east — with dark tanned skin and golden hair and oily beard, with a protruding belly as big as a ball and too many golden rings at his fingers and intertwined in his beard — who Viserys had known in a inn. The man is a rich merchant from Iconio — one of the richest men they ever knew — and he has been the mediator between Viserys and the sultan pertaining to the stipulation of their marriage. 

Daenerys doesn’t like this man. She does not trust him. She is sure he is the one sprouting stupid and inane plans like attacking Rome and the Holy Father and convincing her brother and father they could conquer the central regions of Italy the same way as their ancestor — Julius Caesar — had conquered many a land before dying. 

That dream of greatness is behind this absurd match with the sultan of the Selgiuchidi and the even more pretentious and absurd plans to conquer Italy. 

_We will make Italy one great state once again, sorella_ — Viserys had told her pertaining his ambitions — _just as Caesar expanded the boards of the roman republic before becoming its first emperor we will reunite all those lost people, our people, under our flag and reinstate the great Roman Empire_.

And Daenerys would have liked to remind him that their ancestor, Caesar, had not ruled long, that he had been killed by the men of the roman senate and his heir — Augustus — had created the principate fighting over it against his other heir Mark Anthony who had allied himself with the Egyptian queen of the time… 

A witch some said. 

… but she knows he would read it as if she is trying to correct him and being opinionated, something a woman should never be. 

«You look thoughtful, _principessa_ » Illyrio Mopatis tells her, and she glares at him, her hands fisted in the fabrics of her gorgeous gown. 

«I am not a _principessa_ » she seethes «I am just an Italian noblewoman» 

«Just? — he wonders — your father is the signore de facto of the commune» he tells her «this makes you a _principessa»_

«Is that what you told the sultan during the talks for our marriage? — she demands — that you’d sell him an Italian princess?» 

«Why, aren’t you from the line of Julius Caesar and all of his heirs, _principessa_? It’s a proud and ancient dynasty, yours, one with divine origins — he reminds her — do you know that Aegon the Caesar claimed he was a descendant of Enea of Troy and by him a descendant of the Goddess Venus herself?» 

Daenerys rolls her eyes heavenward «And, if I am not mistaken, he also claimed to be a direct descendant of the founder of Rome, Romolus and through him of the god _Marte_ , god of war» she says «but we know there is only one God and he resides in heaven — she reminds him — and is Father, Son and Holy Spirit» she adds doing the cross sign on herself before bringing her crucifix to her lips and kissing it. 

«That doesn’t mean your lineage is less ancient or less important, _principessa_. In your veins runs kingsblood»he tells her «your ancestors built an empire the likes of which we have yet to see again» 

«The Holy Roman Emperor would have something to say about that if he’d hear you» she doesn’t bother to hide her distaste for the merchant when they are alone and he makes no mystery of how little he cares for her. 

She is just a mean for an end. As easy as that. 

«Now I’d like some silence, if you don’t mind» she tells him «the travel is wearing on me and I wish to pray» 

«We should at least go over the words you are learning of Turkish» he says but Daenerys is already done listening to him. As she looks out of the small panel-window in the carriage she thinks about her mother — she had known her father her whole life, but… had she felt the same way when she had been sent off to marry him by her family, a match made for the good of the family, to keep the blood pure? — she doesn’t have any memory of the woman since she gave her life to bring her wailing in the world during the worst storm to hit Florence to man’s memory. 

No paintings of her are kept inside their house, her father either does not care or cares entirely too much and thought both her brothers often told her how much she resembles their late mother Daenerys still has trouble imagining the woman. 

She knows she too had the silver blond hair of the Targaryens — same as her father and her brothers — and the same amethysts eyes and the lean, thin frame she seems to have inherited from her. Her elder brother, Rhaegar — who is now in Rome, a cardinal of the Holy Church of Rome — is the one who more often talks about her, though always with that far-away sad look that makes her rue having ever asked anything at all. It seems like her death pains him deeply, as if her memory fractures a veil behind which his sadness is hidden, just as much as Viserys, but Rhaegar is less obstinate and was always the most likely to answer her questions about her. 

Had she also been so afraid? 

— _You shan’t be afraid, mio Giglio Italiano_ — the voice of her dreams keeps reminding her — _you are much more than just a little, scared girl from a little city in a old land_. 

_Though Caesar may not have descended by gods_ — she thinks — _he was a great fighter and strategist, a man of power. A leader, as was his heir, Augustus_.

His blood flows through her veins. _She is of the blood of Caesar_ — she thinks — _and she shall not be afraid. Not of an infidel and not of anyone_. 

* * *

Iconio is a great city, filled with noises and exotic perfumes. The people talk all over one another, especially women, with heavy accents in a turkish so difficult she cannot for the life of herself understand a single word. Daenerys is not permitted to even stick her head out of the window to see the streets and the people — they must not see the new wife of the sultan — though there are many circling around the carriage, probably knowing it's her. 

Viserys rides slowly beside the carriage with the armed guards they have brought with them from Florence, their commander — a man from Northern Europe, exiled from his home and arrived in Florence just months ahead on this voyage — Jorah is riding alongside him, his back straight. She can almost see him from behind the intricately laced curtain that hides her from sight. 

«This is not the best day to make an arrival — Jorah says to her brother — it falls on a holy day, the Sultan must be away at the mosque to pray» he adds. 

«So?» Viserys asks, clearly bored and annoyed. 

«So, it must be that we won't be welcomed until his return — he says — we timed our arrival wrong» 

Daenerys remembers having overheard Jorah telling Viserys to either make haste or slow down their pace, some weeks ago. She also remembers her brother thinking his to be all foolish preoccupations.

«That's unacceptable!» Viserys exclaims «he has invited us in his home, the blood of Caesar! — he adds — the least he could, since Florence gives him a wife, would be to be present to welcome us!» 

Jorah doesn't protest and lets him vent out his frustrations. 

He does that often, Daenerys has noticed, it's like the man barely can suffer her brother. 

Though that would not explain why he was so adamant he would accompany them to Iconio. 

Only then does she notice the cold calculating gaze of Illyrio Mopatis on her. She turns to him and stares right through him, a perfectly trimmed brow arched. Unafraid. 

She wishes she is unafraid. 

_You shan't be afraid, mio Giglio Italiano_ — the warm voice she has heard in her dreams since becoming a girl reminds her; warm, velvety and filled with raw emotions — _you are much more than just a little, scared girl from a little city in an old land._

If she closes her eyes just so she can almost picture a steel-like gaze turning soft, brown eyes filled with warmth... all around it there is darkness and yet Daenerys never feels as light as a feather as when she thinks of the voice of her dreams. 

The carriage stops abruptly and Daenerys hits her elbow on the wooden wall of it almost jumping out of her skin. The door of the carriage is swung open with such a violence that Daenerys almost flinches. Viserys' amethyst eyes are alight in fury and rage and she knows better than to provoke him.

He grips her tightly on the arm she is still nursing after the hit and practically shoves her down the carriage making her miss some steps and almost fall all over herself in the grounds of a great soft toned stone castle, before that which is meant to be their welcoming party. 

When Daenerys notices the pity that fills the eyes of the women assembled to welcome her — there are some men too, but their gazes are less pitiful — she feels as if fury surges in her very blood and she trashes in her brother's hold, snatching her arm from his grip. He looks at her half surprised, half enraged but Daenerys meets his stare headon. 

_You shan't be afraid, mio Giglio Italiano..._

She doesn't back down when he takes a menacing step towards her «Easy there — she hisses — _non mettermi le mani addosso fratello_ » she doesn't know from where within such a strength has come, but she feels suddenly empowered as she stares down at him «or it will be the last time you have hands» she threatens.

He looks flabbergasted but Daenerys does not give him the time to react, she turns and strides to her welcoming party; the women as well as the men bow to her and she courtesy to them in return. 

« _Benvenuta_ , Daenerys Targaryen» one of the women tells her in a heavy accented italian «my name is Irri, and I will be your turkish teacher and interpreter» she adds «if it pleases you» 

Daenerys nods her silver blond head « _I miei ringraziamenti, Irri_ » she says «I understand the sultan is occupied in prayer — she adds — if you'd be so kind I would like to rest a bit before meeting him, the travel was long and it is wearing down on me» 

The woman's eyes shines and she nods «Please, follow me inside» 

The palace is raw and warm, but there is also some kind of coldness and primitive power at play between its walls. 

She remembers the lessons Illyrio Mopatis has given her. 

_You will be the Head hatun if you can keep your husband enthralled, principessa_ . He had told her, your daughters would be _sultanas_ and your sons _shezades_ and maybe one day _sultans_ if you play your cards right. 

_A woman of a sultan must be the perfect image of pureness and strength and she must show devotion to Allah and she must always obey her husband, the sultan; she must bear herself accordingly to that and never try to enter in the politcs of the State, she may rule the harem if she is capable enough._

Irri, she discovers will also be the chief of her handmaidens — the other two are named Doreah and Jhiqui — and that she will not reside in the harem as she is not a slave. She is given sounctous chambers alight with many candles and tapestries depicting horses everywhere, with a big, soft bed with silken sheets — this sultan must be really rich, she thinks — for a prison it is quite embellished. 

She finds that the three handmaidens that she learns she must call with the appellation of _kadin_ , which means _woman_ and that each of them has been chosen to teach her something. 

Irri _kadin_ will teach her turkish, Jhiqui _kadin_ will teach her how to pray and behave herself while Doreah _kadin_ has been chosen to teach her how to pleasure her husband the sultan. 

They are her _hizmetkarlar_ , her handmaidens and Daenerys will pass the first long weeks of her stay in Iconio exclusively with them as she is taught everything she must know. 

_I won't be afraid_ she tells herself as they start to undress her to help her inside a hot bath without the same grace her handmaidens in Florence did, _I am not some little, scared girl from a little city in an old land_ . She looks around herself as determination sets deeply into her bones, _I will find a way to return home_ — the perfume of cherry blossoms fills her nostrils despite there being none — _I will escape this turkish hell and I will return home._

* * *

**Italian sentences translation**

Smettila: Stop it. 

Padre: father. 

Fratello: brother. 

Sfortunate: unlucky. 

Dolce sorella: sweet sister. 

Adorabile sorella: lovely sister. 

Sorella: sister. 

Rampollo: scion. 

Selgiuchidi: Seljucks 

principessa: princess 

Marte: Mars 

mio Giglio italiano: my italian lily. 

Non mettermi le mani addosso fratello: don't raise a hand to me, brother. 

Benvenuta Daenerys Targaryen: welcome Daenerys Targaryen. 

I miei ringraziamenti, Irri: my thanks, Irri.


	2. Rhaegar I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar in Rome learns of his sister's fate and is not only angered, so he enlist the help of the most influential woman in the papal court to have an audience with the Pope without having asked it weeks in advance as per iter. 
> 
> What will the Pope do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How are you? Hope you are all fine, here we are with chapter 2 by Rhaegar POV. How are you liking this story so far? If you want let me know in the comments, meanwhile I thank everyone (guest and non) who have left kudos, or bookmarked this story or merely read it.

_ Rhaegar I _

H e slams the door open, cringing on its hinges, as the surface hits the opposing wall; as soon as he is inside he gets his square edged scarlet hat — the  _ biretta _ — off his head, throwing it away with a hiss; even if the  _ zucchetto _ — the scarlet under-hat — is still on his head, his silver blond locks fall in disarray from their usually combed style giving him a perturbed and agitated look. 

« _ Fuori _ !» He screams at the servant lighting the candles around his office «Now!»

The man bows and silently leaves his presence, not that he minds, he can feel the blood under his skin tingling and cursing through his veins, singing in rage and fury. 

His purple eyes are flashing giving him a dangerous edge, he hooks two fingers and tugs at his rosario with such a strength that it falls apart the pearls and golden crucifix scattering on the marble floor. 

He doesn’t care, he strides to his desk and screams again, slamming his hands on the flat wooden surface before moving violently his hands around and sending to the ground and around him everything on the table. 

Letters, documents, seals, inkwells and pens are sent flying, the black ink staining his scarlet choir dress and his pearly white crochet, leaving only the scarlet cassock clean.

The missive he still holds in his hand burns like acid in his palm, the broken wax with the red lily gives away its provenience. Florence. His  _ madrepatria _ . His homeland.

When the missive had arrived he had thought of his sister, his lovely sister, in Florence, a woman flowered now under the care of his brother and father. 

But the full, cursive letters were not from his sister, they — instead — carried news  _ about _ his sister. 

Terrible news.

Rhaegar had known, when Aerys had named Viserys his successor suggesting he took the Faith, that his father had something bigger in mind for Florence and with him away in Rome he had been afraid of how Daenerys could fit inside those plans and plots. It looked like he wasn’t wrong to worry.

It appeared that in a desperate attempt to get dangerous and strong connection and allies in the East, his father and brother had sold his sister to a savage, to a muslim at the other side of the world as if she was nothing but a mare to brood. 

He fisted his hands, his nails digging in the precious and polished walnut wood of the table, his hands finding purchase where he could since he could scarcely punch the daylights out of his brother with him being all the way to Anatolia to bring their sister to a sultan as a gift, as a wife. 

As if Daenerys didn’t descend from Julius Cesar himself and so wasn’t worthy of her family protection. 

_ «Cardinal _ Targaryen, what hails you?» A feminine voice demanded «What is all of this  _ baccano _ ?»

He turns around finding himself face to face with  _ madonna _ Francesca, one of the noblewomen of Rome, one of the most influential in the Pope’s court, the Pope’s niece herself. 

A woman with an ample bosom, golden hair and emerald eyes. Widowed at a young age she had found in her uncle’s court a refuge in which sharpen her mind and use her wits. 

Rhaegar had turned to her, weeks ago, to ask for her intercession with the Pope as he hoped to find a suitable match for Daenerys so to get her away as soon as possible from Florence and their father and brother. Both too ambitious and too little clever to understand how important Daenerys’ role could be for their family and Florence’s politics.

And she had talked with the Pope who had told him quite plainly that a match could be brokered between Daenerys and some Northern nobleman , perhaps even a prince, out of his affection for him and for their most faithful  _ figlia _ .

But it looked like it was all for naught as Daenerys had been sent as a bride to a savage Turkish sultan. 

«My apologies — he says bowing slightly to the woman — I seem to have lost my temper,  _ madonna» _ he offers, she fits her green eyes on him and tuts. 

«Sì, I can see that» she says «What I want to know is  _ why _ . What can it be of so great importance to make you lose your temper in our Holy Father’s home, Cardinal?» she demands, her eyes two slits of emerald green.

Rhaegar sighs and let himself fall seated on his armchair before passing a hand on his face and trying to bring order back in his silver hair «Do you remember my sister? I talked to you about her weeks ago»

She nods «Sì, you wished for me to intercede with the Holy Father to find her a suitable match for her station — she points out — I seem to remember my uncle telling me he had such a match in his hands. Does it displease you?»

Rhaegar wants to laugh. 

Could it ever displease him to have his lovely sister — an Italian noblewoman — married off to the nephew of the Holy Roman Emperor? 

Of course not, he had been elated when his Holiness had told him that Corrado III had shown himself favorable to such a match that would insure his family a foothold in the Italian peninsula, besides marrying off his nephew and not his heir left open many other avenues of political interest for him. 

True, the boy was told to be serious of attitude and thought a great swordsman he was also told to be quiet and humble and Rhaegar had been worried that such a match could make wither Daenerys joyous and  _ allegro _ temperament but his sister would be married to a prince, a prince who could, one day, inherit his uncle’s throne, because everywhere one asked, only good words of a great charisma and selfness were spoken about prince Jon.

«The problem is not the match that the Holy Father has proposed me, which was humbling and so very appreciated» he says.

«Then what is the problem?, speak plainly because I am in no mood for riddles, Cardinal»  _ madonna _ Francesca tells him, looking at him directly in the purple eyes. 

«My father has sent my brother and my sister East — he tells her — he wants her to be married with the Sultan of Iconio, he has already promised her to the muslim, and she is already on her way to Iconio. In a matter of weeks she’ll be the sultan’s bride and there is nothing we can do to stop this»

«But the Emperor showed favor in regards of your sister — she blinks — he wants her to marry his nephew» she adds «we have to stop this»

«We cannot» he says «I know Daenerys» Rhaegar adds «she is sweet of disposition and obedient but she is also unyielding. If they ask her to renounce her faith she won’t bend, she’ll make them kill her rather than bending to their will»

She gulps and hastens to make the cross sign on herself bringing her crucifix to her lips «You believe she’d rather be martyred than renounce her faith?»

«Only in prayers has she ever felt close to our mother, who died birthing her» Rhaegar nods «she is most fervent believer» he adds «and she is quite stubborn, she dislikes being ordered around»

_ Madonna _ Francesca nods «I am sure the Holy Father won’t leave such a lost sheep wandering in the Turkish inferno without doing something — she says — compose yourself, Cardinal, we are going to talk with my uncle»

«But to have an audience with his Holiness…» Rhaegar knows he must appear humble to make sure he has the complete control and help of the most influential woman in Rome.

«We must make haste —  _ madonna _ Francesca protests — my uncle will understand when he learns that such a devoted servant and daughter of his is facing such a peril» she assures him, so Rhaegar obeys her.

He cards his fingers in his silver hair and goes to his closet to take his ceremonial hat — the galero — without which he won’t be admitted to the Holy Father’s presence and he also takes his spare rosario and wears it around his neck, he then changes the stained clothes while madonna Francesca starts making the preparation in his office while he prepares himself in his antechamber.

They are admitted to the Holy Father’s presence only after  _ madonna _ Francesca starts to yell behind the wooden door of his Holiness’ office causing her uncle to make them open the door to reprimand his niece. 

The old Pope has a long crow-like nose and small eyes, his face is bony and he is not wearing his formal attire which betrays that he did not want to be disturbed much to Rhaegar’s chagrin he looks at him with those eyes full of disappointment «Are you now starting to humor such a childish behavior, Cardinal?» his tone is full of reprimand and Rhaegar looks down. 

«My deepest apologies, your Holiness» he offers «but I would not come in such a way in your presence if it wasn’t of the utmost importance» 

The man studies him for a long moment then offers his hand, Rhaegar can recognize this as what it is and bends over kissing his ring with the utter devotion that his station requires.

The man then turns to his niece «I hope you have a good explanation,  _ nipote _ , or I’ll be very disappointed in you. You should know better»

«I know, Uncle» she says hastening then to correct herself «your Holiness — she says — but the news Cardinal Targaryen has conveyed to me tremendously upset my heart and I could not bear to stay idly and wait. I hope you can forgive your penitent niece»

The Holy Father studies her then he offers her his hand too and she bows and kiss his ring keeping her blond head down as a dutiful and mindful noblewoman should. 

«So, now — the Holy Father says — what news have you given my niece to upset her so, Cardinal?»

«It is about my sister, your Holiness — he says, offering the missive from Florence as a proof — my father seems to have grown mad and he sent her to be married off to a muslim. My brother, Viserys, is bringing her to Iconio to have her married to the sultan of the  _ Selgiuchidi _ »

«Has he gone out of his mind?» The Holy Father’s reaction is instantaneous as he turns around his clear eyes shining with anger, almost palpable anger «Is this the way he has repaid me after I find him a more than suitable match, a over-her-station match for his daughter?!»

Rhaegar looks down «I had no idea, Holy Father.  _ Lo giuro nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo _ » he adds crossing himself and kissing his crucifix,  _ madonna _ Francesca does the same «I had no idea my father’s ambitions had grown so that he’d do something so… ungrateful and terrible, but, your Holiness, my sister is  _ innocente _ . She didn’t ask for any of this — he adds — she’s being sold to a savage and she has no means to protect herself but her faith»

He falls to his knees before the Holy Father, fingering the scarlet fabric of the man’s robes, he doesn’t look up «Holy Father, believe me — he says — if someone asks Daenerys to renounce her faith, I am afraid she’ll do something terrible. Brave, but terrible. She’d rather die than renounce her faith» he presses his forehead against the scarlet fabric « _ Vi prego, Santità _ » he invokes «Do not leave my sister, your faithful servant and a devout woman, alone. Do not forsake her»

He knows the people are in a frenzy. They want to reconquer the Holy Land and take back Jerusalem from the infidels, he knows that after the disastrous last crusade the kings and people want nothing more than a chance. If he can get the Pope to call for the banners he may be able to save his sister after all. 

« _ Vi prego _ — he repeats — do not leave your sheep away. She has been led away to slaughter, do not let them kill her so. I beg of you» he does look up now, his purple eyes shining with tears. 

The Holy Father looks down at him before a determined expression sets on his bony face, he takes his chin in his hand — his grip almost bruising — and urges him to look up «Do not fret,  _ figliolo _ — he says — nor I, nor the Lord will leave your sister alone in her battle. I will call all that will answer, it is time we take back the Holy Land from the infidels and save your sister from their hands. As the Lord does not forsake his children, neither will I, that am his  _ vicario  _ in this mortal land. For too long we left them free to roam the Land that God has given us, we ought to return to the Holy Land and take it back. — his grip tightens but Rhaegar doesn’t flinch — rejoice,  _ figliolo _ , your sister will be saved»

* * *

**Italian sentences translations**

Fuori: Out!

baccano: chaos/noise

nipote: niece

lo giuro nel nome del Padre, del Figlio e dello Spirito Santo: I swear it in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit

innocente: innocent

Vi prego Santità: I beg you, your Holiness.

figliolo: son

figlia: daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, what do you think of Rhaegar and madonna Francesca? (if it is not clear she also has no historical counterpart but I have been inspired by Cersei for her character and you can very well imagine her as Cersei if you want with the Pope being inspired by Tywin.
> 
> Let me know what you think of it! Next up we have JON I; as always sending all my love -G.


	3. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Conrad III learns of Daenerys' fate and decide the crusade Conrad has already decided to join is to be had as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello how are you all? 
> 
> @Swetlana has made me realize that at least the first chapters of this story may sound and be misleading for the purpose of it (so I added a tag and decided to put this important incipit note). THIS IS A TOLERANCE FIC!
> 
> I do not believe in holy wars and I loath the bloodshed during such occurences exactly as in the crusades.
> 
> This story does not glorify crusaders and the blood they shed as it does not justify any type of war, act of violence or non-tolerance made by whoever against others.
> 
> IT IS A STORY ABOUT TOLERANCE, the background will be that of hate based of religious differences, sexual differences and such but our main characters (Daenerys, Irri, Jihqui, Doreah, Missandei, Jon, Tormund, ecc..) will all stand against act of intolerance, violence ecc. made based on religious, sexual or genre discrimination.
> 
> Thank you again @Swetlana for showing you concerns so early on so that I could be able to clear the air and I hope not offend anyone further with a plot meant to do the exact opposite.
> 
> Are you ready to finally meet this Jon? 
> 
> How will he react to the news of Daenerys' fate? What does he think of the betrothed his uncle chose for him, a stranger he does not know but that he is bound to because of politics?

_ Jon I _

H e is down in the training grounds when the messenger arrives. 

The man carries the banner of the present Pope — the two swords interlocked looking down, four flowers in a red square on white background — and his horse looks half dead. 

Jon stops his swing halfway through and looks at the messenger as he dismounts his horse and gets welcomed by the castle’s steward. 

Whatever is happening must be big, because even last time they received news from the Pope — news about a match between himself and an Italian noblewoman he knew nothing about — the messenger had not arrived in such a haste and with such an urgency demanded to be seen by the Emperor  _ immediately _ . 

«Oi!» Tormund calls his attention hitting him in the abdomen with the flat of their training swords when he sees that Jon seems suddenly disinterested in their match «Pay attention,  _ prinzessin _ — he jests — or I am gonna gut you like a fish no matter what fancy title you carry» 

Jon sends him a smile «You are as slow as a  _ schnecke _ and no snail can ever hope to gut a fish» he adds for good measure. 

His oaf of a friend snarls and swings his sword in the air and as such their match resumes and Jon puts away thoughts of the Pope, his upcoming arranged political marriage with a complete stranger that didn’t even speak his language as he just feels the rush of blood in his veins as he fights. 

Though, if the woman was true to the likeness of the portrait the Pope had sent along while he and his Uncle worked out the details of such a union she was indeed a woman of incomparable beauty with long waves of silvery blond hair which crowned a pale moon shaped face with pouty rosebuds lips and a button nose, clear amethyst eyes and square expressive dark brows set in a sweet but determined expression. Jon had been half smitten already just by her portrait though she wasn’t properly the usual type of woman that caught his eye. 

There was something in her demeanor that called to him and Jon had found it less disconcerting and less displeasing than he had originally thought, the idea of marrying this beautiful stranger.

The portrait was done magistrally, her striking amethyst eyes stood out on her pale face and her silvery hair were left cascading to her shoulders as normal for the nubile women only adorned by a circlet of pearls that sat on her forehead and interlocked with her two little tresses intertwined with the soft waves softly resting against her simple gown of pale ivory and blue a pearl and golden rosary dangling from her ivory neck, she held a pale white flower in her hand which he had discovered being called a lily and being the symbol of her nation, the small city of Florence in central Italy, though on the banner of the  _ Comune _ it was a  _ red _ lily and not a white one. 

«You are off in your head again,  _ hübsche Prinzessin _ » Tormund comments hitting him on the head with the flat of the sword «I swear you weren’t this bad when it was Ygritte» he murmurs «thought when Val left you, you were similarly distracted» 

«Stop being a dick» Jon tells him «I am not off in my head» 

«Sure you aren’t,  _ hübsche Prinzessin _ » Tormund hisses «and I am sure your lovely wife-to-be will appreciate you ogling at her all day long; who I wonder will have the most beautiful tresses?» 

«I don’t ogle and it’s none of your business anyway» he adds before swinging his sword around, his friend pars his attack without difficulty. 

«Sure is» Tormund replies «I was the one making sure you get laid up until now» he says «what will I tell all the lovely ladies who’d want for you to steal them?, not my fault you are prettier than half the women of this country» 

Jon smiles and shakes his head now fully focused on their match much to Tormund happiness and peace of mind.

In the end he does win, as he usually does, and just as him and Tormund are giving their training swords back to the Master-at-arms a valet approaches them with a pompous and solemn expression. 

«Your highness, his Imperial Majesty demands your presence» he reports, looking as if he is looking through Jon who simply sighs. 

«I will be there presently» he says knowing he stinks after the training and must first wash himself before presenting himself in his royal uncle’s presence. But the valet has received different orders it seems because he just says « _ Immediate _ presence» 

Jon shares a look with Tormund and his friend just shrugs so Jon nods at the valet «I will be there shortly» he says and the man bows and turns away, striding back inside the building. 

Jon has a strange off-putting sense but shakes it off and follows the valet inside, loyally followed in turn by Tormund. As he enters he pats the head of Ghost his white wolfhound and the dog silent as a spectre follows him almost until he is inside the keep, standing out of it in vigil. 

When he is admitted in his uncle’s presence he knows something must be wrong, his uncle had been away for a few weeks at Speyer and Jon knows he had heard of the new crusade indicted by the Pope and had every intention to go, but still they had known nothing clearly though he had heard his uncle say he wanted to join Louis VII in taking back the Holy Land  _ as soon as possible _ . 

«My apologies for my tardiness, uncle — Jon offers though he knows he is not tardy — I came as soon as I could» 

«I am under the impression you were training, nephew» 

His uncle is a cold, stoic man with a bony face and hard eyes. Jon nods. 

«Indeed I was, uncle» he says, his hands intertwined behind his back as his uncle circles around the table and the map spread on it — a map which shows the East and the Holy City of Jerusalem — his hand flattening above Anatolia and the city of Konya. 

«Good» he nods «I hope all this training has done you good — he adds — because we are joining the second crusade» 

This Jon already suspected «I saw the messenger from the Pope» he says «I thought as much, when do we depart?»

«Soon» he replies «As soon as possible — he adds — Jon, sit.» 

It is a direct order and though Jon exchanges a look with Tormund, who’s staying many steps behind him not to alert the Emperor of his presence, he obeys. 

«Jon I need you to be as much invested as you can in this campaign» his uncle tells him in a tone brokering no replies. 

Jon studies him for a moment «I am always fully invested in whatever duty you see fit to bestow over me, your Majesty» he offers, the title rolling off his tongue easily. His uncle nods. 

«You are — he says — but this time I need you to be  _ especially _ invested» he looks at him silently and hard for a long moment then he adds «because your betrothed has been taken hostage by the Seljuk Turks» 

Jon visibly stills at that «How is it..?» 

«It seems that her father has grown mad for power and has sold her off to the sultan of Konya in hope the man may one day help him conquer Italy» his Uncle says with such a distaste in his voice that Jon almost feels sorry for the man, though he sombers immediately since said man sold off his daughter to an infidel without thinking twice. 

Jon thinks of the young girl in the portrait, a woman he doesn’t know, but that his uncle is set on having him marry for her role in the Italian politics. Jon had never held any hope for a personal and romantic marriage, he was the nephew of the Holy roman Emperor after all, love was not in the cards for him; yet that young girl had stirred something inside of him,  _ the girl of the lily _ he had taken to think of her. 

If he could grow to love her with time she’d become  _ his _ lily. And they had sold such a treasure to an infidel. 

A treasure that should have been  _ his _ .

It was astounding and unbelievable. 

And Jon could feel the fury building in his chest. It must have shown in his face because his uncle nods «Good» he says «I need you focused on this campaign — he adds — I will have Henry being recognized King during my absence and you will join me in the crusade. We will crush the muslims and will save your betrothed from the fate her senseless father has condemned her to» 

Jon knows the woman is to be considered either already dead or not desirable as a match for him anymore. 

She either will die before they get to her and they’ll have to avenge her or she’ll be converted forcefully to Islam therefor she’d be no longer considered a good match for him or — God forbid — she’d get sexually intimate with the sultan and she’d be no longer desirable, though if the man was indeed killed she’d be considered a widow yet still the widow of an infidel. 

He also knows that as her betrothed he has a duty to go after her and try to save her. A God’s given duty. And he will do everything in his power to at least save her life, even if it ended before he could do so and he had to avenge her or she’d be alive but would end up in some monastery after the terrible stain on her honor. 

Jon nods. 

«Aye, your Majesty. We will» 

Privately he will pray for the girl. 

He will pray she’ll be spared either fate. 

_Do not be afraid,_ _girl with the lily_ he thinks _we are coming for you, do not wither in the meantime_. 

* * *

**German words translation (** I don't know any german actually so if any of you has suggestions please feel free to let me know! **)**

 _prinzessin:_ princess

 _schnecke:_ snail

 _hübsche Prinzessin:_ pretty princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. Hope you like it. Next up we have another chapter by Daenerys POV. What did you think of Rhaegar?, and Jon?
> 
> And how, how could I not include Tormund?, c'mon guys he and Jon are a set-pack. We needed him here too. Are you happy to see him? 
> 
> What will Daenerys do in Iconio/Konya? 
> 
> Let me know what you think of it in the comments. As always sending all my love -G.


	4. Daenerys II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys meets her husband-to-be, the sultan.  
> She meets a young girl she takes under her wing, and she understand her time is almost come. She will have to find a way out of this place as soon as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello? How are you?
> 
> Hope you are all fine. In this chapter we'll see Daenerys meeting her husband-to-be... how will she react?

_Daenerys II_

Irri has prepared her to meet her husband-to-be, the sultan. 

She and the other two _kadins_ have prepared her during a long bath in the _hammams_ and they have scrubbed her clean with rogue clothes that have made her skin redden and then shine thanks to the many scented oils they have massaged in her skin. 

They have then occupied themselves with her long hair combing through them with wooden combs and making them even more shining thanks to oils and rosewater they have her bathed in. 

There is a eastern-looking attire waiting for her on her bed, its colors are earthy — maroons and pale yellows and dark reds — with a strange looking square headpiece with flowing veils of pale light blue. Daenerys fingers the fabric of the clothes and notices it is good though a bit rough compared to what she is used to. 

When they were helping her disrobe they had looked with distaste at her rosario to the point Daenerys had been afraid they would throw it in the fire and Jhiqui had actually done it before she had been able to do anything about it, to the point Daenerys had had to push the kadin out of her way and had knelt by the hearth, taking the rosary from the thankfully half-asleep flames, no matter how strongly the fire may have burnt her. 

She had thankfully saved the rosary from its ultimate demise and she had turned with such a storm in her eyes that all three _kadins_ had looked down from her glare.

«I appreciate your help and your welcome — she had said bitterly, her tone not brokering any reply — but if any of you dare to do something like that again you’ll be serving someone else» she had added, but knowing only Irri and perhaps Doreah were able to understand her she had ordered to Irri to translate what she had just said in hope all three of them had gotten the message loud and clear. Daenerys had then dismissed both Jhiqui and Doreah. 

Irri had apologized but had also told her that such a garment would not be welcomed in the sultan’s hall as she was to become a muslim too to lay with the sultan and Daenerys had not had the heart to tell her that she meant to do nothing of the sort and that she’d rather die trying to escape this Turkish hell than doing either of that — nor marrying and nor converting to Islam — so she had told the woman the rosary was the only thing left to her by her mother who had died birthing her and the story had touched the woman’s heart so that she’d hidden the rosary in her new attire so that the sultan may not see it convinced still that Daenerys would convert and become a muslim. 

When she had looked at herself in the mirror she had seen a stranger with strange garments and her usually flowing hair left in a simple braid half-hidden by the headpiece she wore. 

Then her brother had knocked on her door and they had left her chambers. 

Viserys is clearly stressed and nervous and pissed with her still because his hold on her arm is tight to the point it almost hurts but Daenerys bears it gracefully and nods to both sir Jorah and magister Illyrio as they escort them to the great hall in which they’ll be presented to the sultan. 

«You have to be perfect, _sorella_ — he tells her in hushed tones — you will make him happy and when the historians will record the Targaryen conquest of Italy they will say it begun today» 

Daenerys does not care about the Targaryen conquest of anything really, _she just wants to go home and if she has to play nice in this inferno she will,_ she thinks as she paints a smile on her lips, _she will burn in this flames if necessary but from the ashes she will be born again stronger and as white as she is now, as untouched_ . _Even if she has to die to escape this place she will_ — she thinks — _because she’d wake anew in the Lord’s Heaven and her soul will be saved_. 

« _Come desideri, fratello_ » she replies shortly before they are escorted inside the great hall of the palace of Iconio, the hall is simple and has hearty tones as her attire — to which Viserys has commented unfavorably as if he was not the one selling her to these brutes — there are some soldiers, the private soldiers of the sultans and of the State, if she remembers magister Illyrio’s lessons well, posted to the side of a long throne called the divan on which sits a majestic and enormous man.

He is so tall Daenerys has to crane her neck and he is sat to look at him in the eye — though Irri has told her not to — with deep and dark, cold onyx eyes, long braided black hairs and copper colored skin. 

From how he sits Daenerys can see he is quite comfortable and confident — much more than either Viserys or her father, he actually reminds her in confidence of Rhaegar though this man seems to hold much more brute strength — what more his eyes never stride away from her face. 

The man on his feet beside him calls for someone in Turkish and magister Illyrio comes forward talking in the language fluently gesturing with a hand «…Viserys Targaryen and Daenerys Targaryen of Florence…» 

Hearing her name Daenerys knows she must courtesy to the man as per etiquette and she does so — not missing Irri’s proud tilt of the head — reading the room, despite not having understood what was being said, correctly. 

The sultan says something in his guttural, rough voice and Daenerys has to force herself not to flinch. 

«Come forward _mia cara_ » Magister Illyrio calls to her and Daenerys takes a step «the sultan would like to see you closer» 

Daenerys comes closer, stopping but one step behind the Magister knowing full well that especially in this Turkish hell she has to appear as demure and subservient as she can. 

Though she should not be looking the man in the eye she seems unable to lower her gaze, for it’d mean to put herself at his _mercé_ and though she knows she is the weaker party here she is not yet defeated. 

She feels her mother’s rosary burn the inside of her upper arm from where Irri has hidden it beneath the fabric of her clothes as the man leans towards her, on elbow on his tight and his dark onyx eyes fixed on her, his mouth curled in apparent distaste. 

The sultan leans forward and then asks something in turkish, gesturing to her head, she turns to Magister Illyrio and he tells her «The sultan is most curious to see your famed hair for himself, he orders that you show him your tresses»

Daenerys blinks unsure, she knows by turkish standards only between man and wife it is possible to show the woman’s hair «If his majesty wishes so, I will - she starts - but I know it would be… _improper_ for me to do so before all these people»

  
  


The Magister gives her a long look then translates what she has just stated to the Sultan who leans back in his throne and observes her at length.

Then he nods and makes a gesture with a hand which is meant to dismiss them, Daenerys and the Magister follow his dismissal and walk back outside the hall without ever turning their back on him, though Viserys needs a bit of work by ser Jorah to walk away and he does so while turning his back to the sultan in a way not befitting of the situation they find themselves currently. 

Irri takes her immediately back to her chamber and Daenerys can only hear half of the conversation her brother immediately starts demanding answers as to why they have been already dismissed, when the wedding will be and when can they expect the sultan’s troops for their conquest. 

Magister Illyrio is calm, his voice a soothing balm to Viserys’s nervousness but Daenerys does not trust the man and she would not trust whatever exits his mouth even if he was the last man on Earth still talking. 

Ser Jorah though follows them. 

When they are almost at her chamber Irri turns and looks at him expectantly before turning to her and Daenerys realizes why they have stopped «You aren’t permitted any further, ser Jorah — she says — I am afraid this is where we shall say our farewells» she adds. The man nods. 

Daenerys respects that he shows so much respect to other cultures. 

«Thank you for having escorted me here» she adds before diving inside the long corridor that will lead to her chambers.

«The sultan was very impressed with you» Irri tells her in Italian nodding her head satisfied «Especially when you behaved so piously, well done.»

«Was he?» Daenerys asks «I didn’t notice» she mutters and Irri smiles broadly. 

«Oh, if he was displeased you would have noticed — she assures her squeezing her hand kindly — he was very pleased. You have all the makings to become the Head hatun if you get to please him further» 

Daenerys keeps for herself the fact that she means not to become head hatun nor to lay with the sultan. She just wants to go home. And she will. 

No matter the cost. 

* * *

The next day she starts her education in the matters of the Sultanate with her handmaidens and a male teacher who she finds is also a eunuch. 

Jhiqui seems still to walk on eggshells with her so Daenerys — who will never forgive her for her gesture, but doesn’t want to hold a grudge with the young girl — turns to her in her barely passable Turkish and asks her from where she comes from. 

The girl seems more relaxed after that. 

It is two weeks in her new routine that there is a knock in the solar in which she takes her lessons in Turkish. 

Daenerys turns to Irri who is sorting through her wardrobe «Who is it?» She asks in a slightly better turkish looking at her teacher to see if she pronounced it correctly. The eunuch nods. 

«I do not know, Daenerys hatun» she replies using the title she has been bestowed by her husband-to-be the sultan as he voyages for the duration of her education to settle some matters with the tribes. Viserys had been quite stunted about her husband-to-be departure without having talked to him but he had been quite proud when he had bestowed the title of hatun to Daenerys without having yet married her, convinced as he was that this would mean that he would give them the troops and mean to conquer Italy. 

«Well, go and see» she says before returning to her lessons, as she does though Irri returns inside. She is not alone, the young girl with the curly hair, chestnut skin and golden eyes Daenerys had seen with the slavers is here with her also. 

«This one — Irri says — is too young to enter the harem of the sultan» she tells her «she has yet to flower — she adds — but she is clever with the languages and gentle in manner. They believed she would do well in your service, Daenerys _hatun_ » 

Daenerys’ amethyst eyes meet those of the young girl then she gazes up at Irri, half intent on sending the girl back — she won’t have slaves — but the look in the little girl’s eyes stills her. 

She sighs «Very well» she nods nudging the girl closer with a hand «Come here, _piccola_ » she says slipping easily in Italian while he Turkish teacher sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

The girl comes closer, she eyes her hand speculatively but when Daenerys does not retract it she takes it in her small little hands both of them curling around Daenerys’ outstretched hand. Daenerys smiles softly at the girl and covers her hands with her in a comforting squeeze. 

«Hello» she says in Turkish though she does not know if the girl speaks it «what’s your name?» She knows the pronunciation is wrong and she is about to turn to the teacher to ask him again to let her hear the right one when the little girl repeats it the right way. 

Daenerys’ head snaps around and her amethyst eyes fix on the girl again who blushes.

«Sorry» she says. 

«Do not apologize, little one» she tries «would you like to tell me your name?»

«Missandei» she says «This one name is Missandei» 

Daenerys nods «I am very pleased — she says dragging the pronunciation just so to make it right — to make your acquaintance, Missandei» 

The girl is little but she smiles broadly then, she advances closer and then she takes one of her little hands away from her old — Daenerys holding her other still — and fingers her silvery locks left flowing for now. 

«They are very pretty» she says «and your eyes are as purple as the violets that grow near home» she adds before looking down wistfully with her eyes filled with tears. 

Daenerys looks up to Irri and Jhiqui while Doreah just rolls her eyes. 

She has understood the young woman meant to teach her the way to please her soon-to-be husband is easily fascinated by anything exotic — which is why she finds Daenerys interesting — but rewards emotional states as weakness. Which Daenerys does not think they are. 

«Do you miss home very much?» she asks and the young girl sobs trying to reign in her tears. 

Daenerys then shifts her hands from the one of the girl she is still holding and the little one brings it to her eyes as if to stop the tears from flowing, Daenerys then fits her hands beneath the little girl’s armpits and she lifts her — she is a bit heavy being from nine to eleven years old, but Daenerys is sixteen strong enough to hold her — and she sets her on her tights her lessons forgotten. 

«I miss my home too» she tells the girl «Would you like it if I were to tell you about it? Maybe we can face homesickness together» she offers and the little girl gazes in her eyes with her golden ones before nodding and setting her head against her shoulder. 

«My home is very big — she says — it houses many people. It has white walls and a big red door and a cherry blossom tree in its garden» she starts «it is a very clean part of the city we live in, Florence. It’s not very big but it was founded by my ancestor, Caesar — she adds — and it is so very beautiful especially when the sun sets» 

«I miss my mama» the girl says. 

«I am sorry, little one — she says — I never knew my mama» she adds «but you know what my big brother Rhaegar always told me?» 

Missandei shakes her head «That if I looked in the mirror I could see her — she offers to the little girl — in my blond hair and in my button nose. Maybe if we look in the mirror we can see your mama too, would you like that?» she is getting better at conversational Turkish to the delight of her teacher though her grammar still leaves much to be desired. 

Missandei nods. 

«Jhiqui have the mirror brought here» she orders. 

«But Daenerys _hatun_ — the kadin protests — it is not good to look at oneself often in a mirror, you will get arrogant if you do»

Daenerys’ eyes become slits «I have said have the mirror brought here — she repeats — I did not misspell it, did I?» she wonders turning to Irri and the teacher who shake their heads «then bring me the mirror, Jhiqui» 

The woman looks unnerved but she obeys. 

«You should listen carefully to what your handmaidens say to you, Daenerys _hatun_ » the teacher suggests «they are your bridge between your culture and ours. You should not denigrate them so especially for a slave you should not humor so» 

Daenerys looks at him dead in the eyes «This young girl needs this little thing — she says — and I won’t let a stupid superstition stand in the way of her needs» 

«But she is just a slave, _hatun_ » the man tuts «her needs do not need to be taken into account» 

Daenerys feels the fury surging «And yet here you are eating what they bring to you and doing your jobs thanks to them doing theirs, perhaps next time a slave won’t do his work and you will be late and I’ll ask my husband to remove you from my service permanently» 

The man looks as if he has been struck, Daenerys turns back to Jhiqui as she hands her a small mirror and Daenerys fits it in her hand so that both her and Missandei are reflected inside of it. 

«Can you see your mother there, little one?» she asks sweetly. 

The little girl inhales sharply then nods and touches with a finger her nose «You have her nose?» Daenerys asks and Missandei nods. 

«And her hair» she tells her «but hers were longer» she adds «and I have my mama’s eyes too» she adds. 

«They are very beautiful eyes» she concedes «So, see? If you look at your reflection you see your mama, and you know why?» 

Missandei shakes her head «Because she’s here - she says pointing to the little girl’s heart - and so her soul shines in your eyes too, she in in heaven now and she looks over you with my mama»

* * *

Daenerys is visited by the sultan, some three weeks after she has arrived in Iconio. It’s the first time she sees him alone - well, not exactly alone, as Doreah remains with her at least before he dismisses her and her brother with Ser Jorah are present too as is Magister Illyrio Mopatis - he is even more imposing than she had thought when she had seen him in his throne room. 

She is with her brother and is listening to him whining about this savages muslism and how he just wishes they could just wrap this all up so that he can return in Italy and plan his conquest. The commander of the small guard they have brought with them from Florence is also in attendance, it’s a man Daenerys has known since she was a young girl, with kind, clear eyes and a gentle approach, though he can be bold and clever when the situation calls for it. 

Leonardo l’ _Audace_ they call him back in Florence because once he saved her father from the riots happening in the city after a couple of terrible years for the economy of the Comune. Daenerys had not be yet born, her mother had been carrying her, but Leonardo had not faced his much more numerous enemies head on, as Rhaegar - who was young but already groomed to take the reins of the city should the need arise - tried to calm the crowd and the people who had basically taken hostage their father _comandante_ Leonardo had disguised himself as a beggar and had stolen inside the crowd successfully freeing her father from the riotous people’s clutches an fighting off those who had recognized him. 

He is a kind man, a good friend of her oldest brother and he had been like a shadow in her youngsters years when she sneaked out of her home to walk in the streets of Florence to see the people. Daenerys always feels safer when he wis around. 

Ser Jorah is present too, he stands behind her, his hands clasped before himself, clad in his northern europe armor, his blond greying hair combed back and his blue eyes fixed on her. Sometimes Daenerys feels the heaviness of his gaze on her and she feels uncomfortable, other times she trusts him with her life. It is a back and forth, but she truly believes if it came to it she could trust ser Jorah to help her the same way she could trust Leonardo.

The sultan has a stony expression, and his onyx eyes are cold and cruel. Dany doesn’t think she likes him, though he is comely in his own way. He has his long dark chestnut hair braided back from his face. As he walks to her Daenerys feels terrified of him. 

He is tall and muscular, so much that his muscles seem to almost ripple through the fabric of his exotic garments. When he enters Daenerys stands up, thought she is rooted to the spot, and courtesies to him as it is custom. Magister Illyrio greets him too, as do both ser Jorah and _comandante_ Leonardo. 

Viserys, on the other hand, merely waves a hand with an annoyed and bored look on his face and he turns to Magister Illyrio almost immediately asking «When will they be married?» he said «I’d like it to take place as soon as possible, for I do not wish to stay another day more than necessary in this awful place»

«Careful, _signore_ » Magister Illyrio admonishes «Sultan Drogo may not know very much of italian, but he understands boredom and disrespect in every language spoken, and to those he does not take kindly, at all»

«I brought him a _regina_ » Viserys says «she is a descendant of Julius Caesar!» he exclaims «she has imperial blood the likes of which it has not been seen since the fall of Rome»

«I know, _signore_ » Magister Illyrio tells him «but sultan Drogo won’t care about that, he accepted the match because he found the portrait I sent to him of her beauty exotic, he cares not for some _pagan_ royal blood»

But Daenerys has not the force to concentrate on that because sultan Drogo dismisses almost immediately her handmaiden, Doreah - the only one with her presently - and then gestures for her to take off the head-piece she has been wearing around and to show him her hair. 

In such close quarters with this man - who has a reputation for his cruelty in battle and for being merciless against enemies and those he perceives as infidels - she is too scared to refuse him any longer, so after receiving a nod from Magister Illyrio, who then excuses himself. 

The sultan’s eyes are cold as he turns them to both ser Jorah and _comandante_ Leonardo, but when neither makes a move to leave her side he nods as if he is satisfied. Daenerys takes off the headpiece with trembling hands unpinning it from her hair, she folds the veil attached to it and leaves it on the table, her silvery blond braid cascades down her back, some curls - that had been kept hidden thanks to the pins - fall around her face framing it.

Sultan Drogo takes a step forward and almost without meaning to Daenerys takes a step back, he had already outstretched his hand and he stills, his cold onyx eyes fixed on her as if to dare to move again.

Daenerys gulps, but steels herself, fists her hands and then relaxes them against her side, then she takes a breath and faces him head-on, her amethyst’s gaze intent as if to dare him in return. Sultan Drogo makes a sort of satisfied _harrumph_ as he outstretches his hand again and twirls one of her curls around his copper-colored finger. The silvery blond lock in stark contrast with the color of his skin. 

Daenerys finds the movement of her hair around that finger almost hypnotizing, and yet the cold, onyx eyes of the man supposed to be her husband terrify her. 

He takes a step closer and Daenerys almost visibly flinches, he hooks his hands behind her neck and cards his fingers in her braid, unbraiding it and letting her locks loose.

She looks at him as he surveys her « _hayatımın ayı_ » he calls her and Daenerys has not learned enough turkish to understand what those words mean, she’ll have to ask Irri or perhaps even Missandei who has taken to turkish with an impressive velocity. 

Sultan Drogo then cups her face in his big hands, hands that feel too hot against her marble-like face and she is suddenly afraid he’ll try to kiss her. Daenerys has never kissed anybody. _Ever_. 

She had always thought she’d get her first kiss from her husband, in her dreams he had been comely and young, though his face was often blurred so that she could not remember him but for his velvety voice. _Do not be afraid, mio Giglio Italiano_. 

He doesn’t. _Grazie a Dio_ , she has to force herself not to cross herself when he takes a step back, says nothing more doesn’t even spare a look in Viserys’ direction and stalks away. 

It is that same very evening she discovers he will travel to some tribe he has some business with and that when he returns he expect her to be converted to Islam so that they might marry.

Daenerys is terrified. She does not want to convert.

She does not want to marry him. 

* * *

_Pater noster qui est in caelis_

_sanctificétur Nomen Tuum:_

_advéniat Regnum Tuum:_

_fiat volúntas Tua,_

_sicut in cælo, et in terra._

_Panem nostrum_

_cotidiánum da nobis hódie,_

_et dimítte nobis débita nostra,_

_sicut et nos_

_dimíttimus debitóribus nostris._

_et ne nos indúcas in tentatiónem;_

_sed líbera nos a Malo._

«Amen» she murmurs, deep in the night the only moment she can pray since coming to the sultan’s court. She starts with the nex prayer as she follows the guide of her rosary. 

_Ave, Maria, grátia plena,_

_Dóminus tecum._

_Benedícta tu in muliéribus,_

_et benedíctus fructus ventris tui, Iesus._

_Sancta María, Mater Dei,_

_ora pro nobis peccatóribus,_

_nunc et in hora mortis nostrae._

«Amen»

_Please, please Lord,_ she prays inwardly, _save me from this place. Save me from this fate. Help me, give me strength._

She is about to start the next prayer when Missandei appears in her chamber, padding silently to her. 

«Daenerys _hatun_ »

«Yes, Missandei? You can’t sleep?»

The girl shakes her head «What are you doing with that?»

Daenerys thinks about it for a long moment, then she decides that she can trust this young girl so she beckons her closer «I am praying» she tells the girls «this - she shows her the rosary - was my mother’s and gives me a guide to affirm my Faith in Father, Son and Holy Spirit»

Missandei sits next to her and Daenerys shows her «The first five mysteries, the Joy mysteries, tell us that the angels descended from Heaven to tell the Virgin Mary that she was expecting Jesus, the son of God» she tells her «then she goes to her cousin, saint Elizabeth the mother of saint John baptist» she shows her the next mystery «Jesus is born without pain and in light, in poverty in a stable kept warm only with the breathe of a donkey and an ox, then he is presented at the temple and then he is found again at the temple» and she goes on in the evening explaining the young girl her Faith.

She doesn’t know yet, in what kind of trouble that could lead her.

* * *

**Italian translations**

_sorella:_ sister

 _come desideri fratello:_ as you wish, brother

 _mia cara_ : my dear

 _piccola:_ little one

 _comandante:_ commander

 _Audace:_ the Bold

 _regina:_ queen

 _signore:_ lord

 _Grazie a Dio:_ thank God

**Turkish translations (** again, as with german, if there is something wrong, please feel free to tell me, I'll appreciate it very much! **)**

 _kadin:_ woman, lady

 _Hatun:_ (should be) a title reserved for ladies

 _hayatımın ayı:_ moon of my life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. I potrayed the character of comandante Leonardo on Barristan Selmy who is called the Bold and Leonardo means bold as a lion in italian so I thought it very fitting. 
> 
> What do you think will happen now? Will Daenerys convert and marry sultan Drogo? Will she not? Will the crusaders come in time to save her from her fate or not? 
> 
> and how will sultan Drogo react to Daenerys stubborness if she indeed decides not to convert to Islam? 
> 
> I know nothing of turkish and such, so translations come from google translate and what I can find on the net about their ways of life, but if anybody knows best please feel free to tell me, so that I can make this as believable as possible and as accurate as possible without offending anyone!
> 
> Let me know what you think of it!
> 
> As always sending all my love -G.


	5. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon in the crusader camp before they set for Anatolia, he meets someone and thinks over a dream he has had.
> 
> He then sets off to war with - courtesy of my friend Louen_Leoncoeur - his impressive armor, sword, spear and sword on his red destrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How are you all? Hope you are all fine. 
> 
> Here we are with the chapter in which we see a bit more inside of Jon's head. What does he want?

_Jon II_

He watches over the war-camp, his uncle is in the war-tent with the other kings that have joined the campaign, Tormund is at his side as his wolfhound, Ghost, who sits on his rear-paws and stays silently by their side. 

«What are you brooding about, _hübsche Prinzessin_?» Tormund asks him and Jon just shrugs. 

«I can’t believe that soon we will finally depart for the Holy Land» he says «and, I hope we get there in time to save _Dame_ Daenerys» he adds. 

_Mädchen mit der Lilie_ as he has taken to think of her.

«Of course you do, don’t you?» Tormund jests «can’t wait to get married, do ya? And _consuming_ »

«You are an idiot, and what more, it is unlikely I will marry her now, what with her having been probably deflowered by that savage infidel and...»

«Deflowered?» Tormund blinks. 

«Aye» Jon says «if the sultan has laid with her» his friend keeps blinking, his stare as confused as Ghost’s «He has _fucked_ her» he explains in the end, and Tormund finally seems to have understood. 

«And why is that a problem?» he asks «she’d more experienced»

«She’d no longer be a virgin, so she’d no longer be pure» he says, often he forgets how little Tormund cares for this type of things «to us nobles it’s important»

«You nobles are all buggered in the head» Tormund complains «the purity of a woman is not defined by her being a virgin or not»

«And on that I am in accord with you, my friend» he says clapping his shoulder «but alas, this is the world we live in, let’s only hope that by the time we arrive she has not met her final demise or worse»

That night he had dreamt of the great Wall of Tears in Jerusalem, he was walking there, and to his shame he was clad in what should have been his cousin’s regalia - the Holy Roman Emperor regalia - something he should not have dreamt or wished for such a thing, and as he walked in prayer there was a noise and from the wall appeared a white flower, the same white flower she had in her hand in the portrait they had sent him, a white lily and the air filled with sweetness. 

Jon had never felt either so alive or so at peace. 

He had woken up feeling the shame of wanting something not his - the Holy Emperor regalia which was supposed to be his cousin’s after his uncle Conrad’s death - but feeling the afterglow of the peace he had felt during the dream. Even if he thinks about it now he could almost smell the sweetness of that lily. 

«What are you thinking of?» Tormund asks «Do you want to tell me? It’s different than your unlucky woman» 

«I had a dream, yesterday night» he admits «something I’d rather not share» he is trying to convince himself he does not want that. He is content with the life he will live at Henry’s side, his right-hand when he would succeed his father. He is. Truly. 

_Why does that sound like a lie?_ , he wonders. 

Tormund is strangely serious as he clasps his shoulder «Remember, my friend - he says - dreams are sent by God himself, they show us the way» he adds crossing himself, Jon imitates him and thinks over what he has just said.

Does God mean to show him his earthly purpose with dreams? Is it his destiny to rob his cousin, a boy he thinks of as a younger brother whom he loves as such, a ten year old young prince already groomed to take one day his father’s crown? Is he supposed to be a fate-thief? 

But if it is the Will of God, how can Jon object to it?

The air carries heat and the smell of horses, so different from the sweetness of his dream and it brings him back to reality, he burrows one hand in the fur of his wolfhound and sighs as he descends down in the camp.

Whatever the meaning of his dream, he thinks, it holds no importance now.

His uncle Conrad has had the nobles of Germany elect Henry as king in his absence and Jon had been present too, to see it through. His uncle trusted him to protect his cousin and this was how Jon repaid him? No. He will put thoughts of that dream far away from his mind, never to be thought or acted upon. 

It does sound like a lie even in his own mind, but Jon relegates it in the recesses of his mind and thinks only of the matter ahead. The Crusade.

He enters the tent of his uncle and finds him pouring over a map with a hooded figure, a pilgrim perhaps, and his uncle’s eyes do brighten when he sees him.

«Come inside, nephew» he calls making a gesture to have him come closer «we are just choosing the better route to get to Anatolia.» he adds «Jon - he adds and Jon’s full attention is on him - may I present you our guest?, he travelled through the nick of time to catch us here to talk with you» he explains gesturing to the side. 

Jon watches the pilgrim he has given no attention to before now, he is tall - taller than him - and he covers his whole body and head with a worn out travel cloak of exquisite workmanship but as soon as he hooks his hands under the rim the hood pulled down in front of his face Jon catches sight of his ring, an _ecclesiastical_ ring, big and square, golden and with a sapphire as big as a nail encrusted inside it. 

As soon as the stranger pulls off his hood from his face Jon feels as if he has been punched in the gut. 

The man has an oval face, with a square and strong jaw, a long elegant nose and striking purple eyes under thin, silver, expressive eyebrows. His hair, chopped at shoulder length, is braided back from his face and is silvery blond. 

Jon does not need to be told who this man is, he bears such a resemblance to the girl with the lily that he knows immediately this must be her cardinal brother, the one on the behalf of whom the Pope had offered the match between Jon and _Dame_ Daenerys.

«Cardinal Rhaegar Targaryen» his uncle introduces «let me present you my nephew, Jon of the House Hohenstaufen, Duke of Swabia» he says «nephew, your good-brother to be, the cardinal Rhaegar Targaryen» he offers gesturing between them. 

The man gives him a sorrowful smile and offers him his hand in greeting, Jon knows he should kiss his ring as he is a Cardinal and yet he is not here - as his disguise suggests - as a Cardinal but as a worried brother. He clasps his hand instead, his gaze never wavering from the man’s as his hand curls around his elbow. The Cardinal seems surprised but nods and clasps his arm back. 

Jon feels the pressure of his uncle’s stern gaze on him, ever calculating, but does not back down from his stance «It is a pleasure meeting you, my lord» the Cardinal says in german, his pronunciation marred by his strong italian accent «I just hope it’d had been under better circumstances» he offers.

«Indeed» Jon nods «I wish it was so too» he offers back «Nonetheless, I am glad of making your acquaintance, your Excellency» 

«Please, call me Rhaegar, after all, God willing, we’ll be brothers» the man says and Jon nods.

«God willing» he echoes and all of them - his uncle too - cross themselves «then you must call me Jon, too, _Rhaegar_ » he offers, his voice curling around the exotic name.

Will they really? He thinks of his dream then, the lily appearing in the Wall of Tears and filling the air with sweetness, he thinks of himself walking that path.

_God willing_.

«I cannot tell you how much it means to me that his Holiness indicted this campaign to avenge the crusade states and save my sister - Cardinal Targaryen says - nor how much it means for me, as a brother, to see my sister’s betrothed being so invested in her rescue»

«As it is my God-given duty» Jon nods «I’d forsake my own honor if I’d let any innocent in such a fate, ever more when I have a Godgiven duty to that innocent. I will do all my power to save her and return her safely to where she belongs»

Cardinal Targaryen nods clearly touched «Thank you, _Jon_ » there is something oddly powerful in the way Jon feels hearing him treating him in such a way, with such reverence «I have every faith in this campaign, his Holiness too» he adds «and I have every faith you and Daenerys shall be very happy together»

Jon nods «Would you tell me about her so that I know what to expect?»

His uncle chuckles «Wise boy» he comments «he knows well how easy it can be to defeat an enemy in battle and how dangerous it is to tread with _women_. Smart indeed»

Cardinal Targaryen chuckles too « _Sì_ » he says «he is clearly wise beyond his years»

His amethyst eyes sparkles «Daenerys is joyful» he tells him «kind, she has a gentle heart and is as stubborn as a mule»

His uncle snorts «Name me a woman who isn’t» he comments, Jon finds himself smiling too as the picture he has made of this maiden starts to actually take a _real_ form in his mind. 

«Indeed» Cardinal Targaryen says «She’s also daring» he adds «and strong. A woman strength, but strength nonetheless. She’s very devout, she’d rather die than convert, I do hope you get there in time to save her, not only from the sultan, but from her own fashion of bravery»

  
  


They leave the encampment a sennight after his meeting with Cardinal Targeryen who left for Rome a week after assuring himself Jon would do anything in his power to save his sister. 

His uncle wants him at his side when they march out. The non-armed of their party will take the route around Anatolia through the catholics states while the fantery and the chivalry - armed and ready for war - will travel through Anatolia to defeat the Seljuks and save _Dame_ Daenerys. 

Jon looks the part and he would not be surprised if the many that already call him _the unofficial heir_ to the Roman’s Empire, as he rides side by side with Conrad king of Romans as he styles himself, would feel even more sure of his role. 

His armor is of coal black colored steel plates and has been forged in the great armouries of Augsburg with rondels made of great golden medallions with gilded fastenings and polished so that the steel is shining in the sun as they ride. A solid gorget encircles his neck, protecting it from enemies and allies alike, with stamped on it the double eagle of the Holy Roman Empire. 

The steel skirt covering his legs is of lobster metal and he wears his kite shield of steel and oak-wood secured with his own personal sigil - three black lions on a yellow field quartered with Fleur the Lys - as his lion-pelt cloak dances in the wind keeping him warm against the winds. 

He rides with his lance in hand - made in Rome - crafted from oak inlaid in gold, its curving vamplate guard had been carved in the likeness of an eagles head, and he has heard many says they believe the lance bears a shard of the true cross. His sword, instead, is of the best Damascus steel he had ever wielded.

He _feels_ powerful. 

He looks like an Emperor of Old and that makes him title his head proudly, as if to tell them. _Aye, look at me. Now you see me._ As he rides on his red destrier of a great size clad in golden and black barding. Many who had seen his horse launched in battle had thought and told the animal was no mortal creature but sent especially from Heaven to guard and follow the prince. 

_I am coming, Mädchen mit der Lilie, do not wither. Keep praying._

* * *

**translations from German**

_hübsche Prinzessin:_ pretty princess 

_Dame:_ lady 

_Mädchen mit der Lilie:_ the girl with the lily

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. What do you think of this Jon, does he intrigues you? This fight he fights between his affection for his cousin and his own ambition showed to us in a dream - I took inspiration from his dream of the blue flower in the Wall - what do you think of Rhaegar and Jon's encounter? 
> 
> In the first chapter I have uploaded a cover I did myself for the story thought it was the first time I actually tried my hand at making a cover, if you'd like let me know what you think of that too. Thank you!
> 
> Let me know!
> 
> As always sending all my love -G.


	6. Leonardo I part I, Daenerys II and Leonardo I part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens in the men's quarters? How did Viserys take the sultan's behavior?
> 
> Then we have a Daenerys interlude and then we see the sultan making Viserys a proposition. Will he accept? Will he not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, how are you?
> 
> This is a double chapter Leonardo I (part I e II) interluded with Daenerys III which makes us see what is happening in the court of the sultan. 
> 
> Are you ready for it? What do you think will Daenerys do when cornered? Will she convert? Will she not? Will she make her escape or not?
> 
> I have put a trigger warning (will be accordingly indicated in the text) because I describe an abusive behavior (asserting dominance) and a panic attack and if anyone feels triggered by it he or she can simply jump over it and not read it or read it anyway if they want, but I wanted to warn anyone just in case.

_Leonardo I, part I_

He watches as ser Jorah Mormont looks to _madonna_ Daenerys as she is escorted away after her meeting with the sultan. 

He knows _madonna_ Daenerys since she was born, such a tiny babe, born early and alone without her mother. _Signor_ Aerys had not even wanted to hold the child, so enraged he was that she was a girl and that his wife had died bringing her to the world. 

The first one to hold the babe had been _signor_ Rhaegar just returned from their house in Pistoia - called back from his mother’s _dama di compagnia_ for the birth of his sister - and though his purple eyes shone with tears and grief for the loss of his mother, the almost twenty year old man had held the babe with such a love shining on his face.

Leonardo had known that moment that as long as _madonna_ Daenerys had her oldest brother with her she’d be safe. He had begged Rhaegar not to leave her - an eleven year old girl - alone in Florence with _signor_ Aerys and _signor_ Viserys who cared little for her, seeing in her nothing but the reason _madonna_ Rhaella had died.

So _signor_ Rhaegar had left _him_ behind as he went to Rome and became Cardinal and joined the Pope’s court, tasking him with the protection of _madonna_ Daenerys. Not that he had to ask, Leonardo loves her as if she is his own kin.

And he doesn’t like the way this Jorah Mormont watches her. He is clearly smitten with _madonna_ Daenerys, and Leonardo doesn’t like it. He doesn’t trust it, Jorah Mormont is too old for _madonna_ Daenerys who is but a young girl. 

«How dare he!» _signor_ Viserys exclaims standing up and rushing to the door - already closing behind the back of the sultan who is walking away, uninterested in them - his movements are neurotic and agitated, his fists so close that the knuckles whitens « _signor_ Illyrio what is the meaning of this?!»

Magister Illyrio talks is calm, soothing tones «He is the sultan, _nobile signore_ » he says «he is very busy, but it seems like he approves very much of _madonna_ Daenerys, so our plans will come to fruition»

Leonardo has to stop himself from grimacing. He was opposed with this match from the very beginning, but he has no word in _madonna_ Daenerys’ fate, so he could do nothing but go with her East in hope to protect at best of his possibilities.

« _Anche io ho molti impegni!_ » _signor_ Viserys snaps «I have to plan the Targaryen’s conquest of Italy, not sit in my palace all day.»

«The sultan does not sit all day long in his palace, _signore_ » magister Illyrio says «he has shown himself favorably to your sister, this means your alliance is a done thing, _oramai_ »

Viserys grimaces «It will be a done thing when I depart from here with his men!»

«Patience, _signore_ » Jorah Mormont says «We have to exercise patience»

«I have been patient! We’ve been here for weeks already» he snaps «in Italy or in any other country we would have already celebrated the wedding and I’d already be well on my way home»

Leonardo looks at ser Jorah and sighs. He knows the man plans to stay behind with _madonna_ Daenerys under the guise of protecting her, perhaps he also has some other less than pure intentions. He perhaps means to ‘save her’ and then use her gratefulness to bind her to him. 

Leonardo must find a way to protect her. From enemies and allies alike.

He catches the small girl as she runs around the corridors of the sultan’s castle. She has dark curly hair, dark skin and big, golden eyes. He has seen her beside _madonna_ Daenerys and knows that the _madonna_ surely has already grown to care for the girl.

« _Attenta, bambina_ » he steadies her when she almost stumbles in her steps «there, are you alright?»

The girl is clearly afraid. 

«Calm, little one» he offers though he does not know if she knows any italian «I am not going to hurt you, I am _comandante_ Leonardo, I came with _madonna_ Daenerys»

«You came.. - she tries, her italian is _rusty_ at best, but clear - with Daenerys _hatun_?»

« _Sì_ » he nods «You like Daenerys _hatun_ \- he asks - don’t you?» 

«She’s...» she seems to be searching for the correct word « _kind_ » she says «I like her very much»

She is clutching something at her heart and she seems afraid to have him see what. So he asks, bending down so that he is at her height «What do you have there, _piccola?_ »

He doesn’t make any move to take it with the force, she studies him at length then she shows him the small golden framed mirror. Leonardo watches her, she doesn’t seem like a thief. 

«Did Daenerys _hatun_ give you that?»

« _Sì_ » she tells him in italian «she gifted it to me, to see my mama» the way her small voice breaks Leonardo is reminded of the way _madonna_ Daenerys would look at herself in the mirror searching for _madonna_ Rhaella in herself. 

«It’s very beautiful» he says «Look I know I cannot enter Daenerys _hatun_ ’s chambers, but I am worried for her» 

Her big, golden eyes shine with worry, Leonardo then smiles at her reassuringly «Would you be so kind to bring her a message from me?»

The girl seems to think it over for a long while then she nods clutching the mirror to her chest again « _Sì_ »

«Run along, now, then _piccola_ » he says «I will find you when I have the message ready»

He watches her as he skips her steps around the corridor. It is a small thing, but at least this way he can keep in touch with _madonna_ Daenerys and maybe find a way to help her. 

* * *

**TRIGGER WARNING! I am warning you that during _Daenerys III_ chapter we will get abusive behavior (with phisical - thought there is no violence - and psycological assertive behavior against Dany as the weaker party) and a subsequential panic attack. I wanted to warn you just in case. For those who reading it don't find it to be triggering I say better safe than sorry, I warn you of what you may find even if I tried to stay as much as I could on the safe side with description as not to trigger anyone.**   
  
  


* * *

_Daenerys III_

_S_ he watches as Irri, Jihqui and Doreah all take turns to wash their faces and necks, hands and arms up to their elbows and feet and legs up to their ankles. She observes as they lay out rugs and wrap their heads with scarfs before kneeling facing the same direction.

It’s noon and Daenerys has, by now, learned that the rhythms of the life inside the court of the sultan are marked by the time of prayers. She has seen them over and over, preparing to pray always facing one particular direction, sometimes they are on their feet, sometimes they prostrate, or sit or pray as they bow but Daenerys can say one thing for sure. They all hold reverence and dignity as they pray. 

She has not learned enough arabic by now to understand all the prayers her handmaidens do, but she can recognize the recitation repeated over and over at the beginning of every prayer.

_Allah is great._

They believe it, wholeheartedly the same way she believes Jesus to be born of the virgin Mary and the son of God, died on the crux for them and risen again from death to sit at the right of the Father. 

She cannot fault them their faith in the same way they should not fault her hers.

And they - her handmaidens at least - seem to not do so. Her turkish teacher asks her every day if she has seen the light and converted to Islam, and he is always disappointed she has yet too, reminding her often she will not be married to the sultan if she does not convert to Islam and believes in it. Daenerys is too smart to tell him she has no intention to do either of those things.

She wishes more people were so devout, if they were she is sure no war would be fought because people would be too occupied with behaving accordingly with their faith rather than preoccupy and busy themselves with acts of wars and hate and violence.

She waits obediently and in silence respecting their prayer as her turkish teacher prays - not in the same room as them - and as her handmaidens pray too. 

Missandei is present also and watches them in fascination, then she turns to her and opens her mouth to speak but Daenerys brings an index finger to her lips and shhs her softly. She knows their prayer would be for naught if they are disturbed.

Missandei silently fishes a parchment from her waistband offering it to her, Daenerys takes it and hides it in her sleeve. She doesn’t wish to interrupt this moment with the noise the parchment is bound to make. 

She knows all too well that Irri, Jihqui and Doreah know she receives messages from her italian retinue, but none of them has said anything about it, displaying a loyalty Daenerys is graceful for. 

The support of _comandante_ Leonardo warms her heart and she is so touched by it she’d like nothing more than take him up to his offer to steal in the night inside her chambers and free her, but she doesn’t know what will be of her brother then, or of him, and does not wish neither of them harm. 

She waits patiently until they are done with their prayer and while they are folding once again the carpets she unrolls the parchment. 

_Madonna Daenerys,_

_your brother, signor Viserys, looks to grow more restless as the days pass. I am afraid that if we do not take action presently he’s bound to do something drastic that will lead to our downfall._

Daenerys grimaces, her purple eyes shining with unshed tears. She’s terrified, but she cannot let anything like that pass, and yet - as her crucifix seems to burn against the skin of her arm - yet she finds that some values she does not want to sacrifice. 

She caresses Missandei’s chubby cheek as she circles her table as she reads on. 

_If you desire so, my offer still stands, madonna. I’ll bring you to your brother, Cardinal Targaryen and to safety._

But how could Daenerys leave Viserys here? He would get himself killed for sure. She cannot have it, he may not be a over-caring brother but he is her brother still, the brother she had scraped her knees running after in the courtyard of their home in Florence when she was a child. The brother who’d tell her off because she had hurt herself, but would hold her, keep her close to his chest as he brought her to _medicus_ so that she was cared for. 

It is almost time for dinner when something unexpected happen. 

Someone knocks on her door «Who is it?» she hears Irri asks and when she returns to her from the antechamber she has a pale, ashen face. 

«The sultan has called for you, Daenerys _hatun_ » she says and it’s clear by the way she moves that she’s scared. 

It has taken the sultan four weeks to travel around the tribes, but now he has returned and Daenerys still has not converted. She is afraid, _what is going to happen now?_

She sucks in a breath «very well» she says «then see me he shall» she adds as Jihqui is already busying herself with braiding her loose hair and pin on the headpiece. She is tormenting her hands but when Jihqui clasps her shoulder she looks in her dark eyes.

«It will be fine, Daenerys _hatun_ » she promises and Daenerys is grateful for her the same as for Irri and Doreah and Missandei. 

They lead her to a dim-lit room where the sultan is waiting, he is standing up, he is dressed simply, his long dark hair is still braided but when he turns his cold, cruel onyx eyes shines. 

« _hayatımın ayı_ » he greets her speaking to her in turkish and telling her he has missed her, Daenerys can see in his eyes that he is honest, he truly has missed her. She almost feels guilty of having, instead, dreaded his return. 

He gestures for a small, short table « _hayatımın ayı_ sit» and she does, the sultan gives an order and two servants bring in the first course of what is their first dinner together.

«Thank you» she says when he offers her a cushion to lean on « _Hunkarim_ » she says, he smiles broadly, though it still seems a bit cruel.

«Your turkish is better» he compliments her as he begins to eat, Daenerys eats only after he has taken the first bite. 

«Thank you» she says «Irri helped me a lot» she adds, small talk is all that she can get herself to have with this strange, imposing man who seems so keen to her when all she would like to do is run to the door and away from this palace. 

«I trust you have been treated accordingly to your status during my absence» he says after a bit. It must be the longest sentence she has ever heard from him. The most articulate too, he seems to her like a somber and calculating type, more than the talkative one. 

«I’ve been treated very well - she says - considering… everything» 

«Something displeased you?» he asks between bites of his stew. Daenerys finds she has no appetite to dine with him tonight or every other night of her life. 

«It’s nothing much» she says «I just… I feel like a prisoner» she murmurs.

«Once you convert everything will change, _hayatımın ayı_ » he tells her seriously finally broaching the subject Daenerys was dreading all the way to this dinner «you shall be treated with every honor of your position as my wife, once you do»

Daenerys takes a breath «And what if I never do?» she asks, for the first time since her arrival looking at him in his cold, onyx eyes. 

He munches slowly on his bite then gulps down more slowly still «Do not say foolish things, _hayatımın ayı_ » he tells her «of course you will convert, in time - he offers - I cannot risk our children to grow as infidels. I won’t have it.»

Daenerys feels nauseated by the idea of having his children, the children of the man who admits of keeping her prisoner until she bends to his will. The fact that her shackles and bars are golden and encrusted with diamonds does not change the nature of them. 

«Do you understand me, _hayatımın ayı_?» he asks and there is something dangerous in his tone and in the way he watches her. 

Daenerys takes a small bite off her own plate to divert the question, but he grips her hand on the table with his massive one, almost hard enough to make her flinch, but Daenerys sets her jaw and refuses to make him see how much he is scaring her. 

She forces herself to look at him slowly as if he is not terrifying her.

«Do you understand me?»

«So I should forsake my faith to adjust to yours?» she asks. She doesn’t know from where within this strength came, but she just knows she has to make him see that she is not some shallow little girl afraid of her own shadow, thought were it not for his grip on her hand and her own sheer will she’d be trembling like a leaf right now « _è giusto_?» she demands slipping easily in italian «and who tells me your faith is better than mine?»

«I do, and what I say is the law, _hatun_ » his ever calculating gaze is cold, cruel and dangerous. Dark. 

The way he trashes her hand in his grip is a cruel way to assert his dominance. Daenerys hates it.

«Do you understand me?» he asks again.

Daenerys bites her lower lip and holds her chin high «The soul is mine» she says «you assert no dominance over it»

She is almost afraid he will strike her, afraid of her own stupidity in opposing him so fiercely and directly. His grip on her hand becomes forceful and hurtful. 

«Guards!» he calls and Daenerys is terrified he means to execute her now and here «escort Daenerys _hatun_ to her chambers» he orders instead.

Her hand is red from where he has gripped it, Daenerys stands up and dusts off her gown before offering him a small courtesy. He doesn’t even look in her direction as she approaches the guards, who flank her.

As she is about to exit the chambers he calls her, she turns and he is looking at her with his onyx eyes alight with fury «Do not forget who is in charge here, _hatun_ » he tells her «you are mine now to do as I please with, do not ever forget that» he adds «you can play nice and be rewarded or not, the choice is yours, but I will get what I want from you»

She doesn’t reply, he waves a hand and they _escort_ her outside by her arms. Daenerys refuses to trash in their hold or flinch at their manhandling. Only when they shove her inside her own chamber, almost stumbling on her own feet does she let herself breath out.

Jihqui is immediately by her side as Daenerys bends over, her hands pressed to her sides as she pants out, the tears stinging her eyes. 

«Daenerys _hatun!_ » Jihqui exclaims, attracting both Irri and Doreah attention, the three handmaidens are at her side immediately helping her sit on the marble floor as she feels the tears in her eyes but cannot breath, she _feels_ as if her lungs are constricted as if no matter how much she tries she’ll never be able to breath again.

«I….I cannot… breath» she tries to get out.

Irri gives a series of orders to the others but Daenerys is too scared by her inability to breath that she doesn’t care to understand what her handmaiden is saying.

Doreah is brushing her hair from her face - when have they put away her headpiece? - Jihqui is holding her hand and drawing soothing circles in her back while Irri takes her other hand gingerly. 

She looks at the red imprint around the sides and the palm of it and looks at Jihqui and Doreah before tucking a lock of hair behind her ear «Cry, Daenerys _hatun_ » she says «you can cry, we won’t tell anyone. Cry, we’ll dry your tears» 

It is as if a dam broke with those gentle words the tears start flooding out of her purple eyes and run down her cheeks, as she cries she suddenly feels as if the sobs the rock her body help her actually breath and she gets less scared the more that she cries. 

She has not cried since she was eight years old, what seems a life ago, but is eight years ago. It is freeing and there, in the embrace of those she had thought as jailers, albeit kind and caring, but who became her friends she feels like herself. 

_She will escape this place_ , she promises herself, _or she’ll die trying_. 

* * *

_Leonardo I, part II_

He follows Jorah silently.

He does not like the man. He does not like the way he watches _madonna_ Daenerys, nor the way he seems uninterested in anything else but the girl he should protect like a daughter instead of looking up as a woman he means to take to his bed. Not that Leonardo would let him.

He turns the corner to find himself face to face with the man himself «Why are you following me, _comandante_?» 

«I don't trust you» he replies. 

He is a frank, direct man. He says it as he sees it. 

«I have done nothing to deserve your distrust, _comandante_ » Jorah tells him «besides being loyal to the _famiglia_ Targaryen» he adds for good measure.

«You are loyal to no one but yourself» Leonardo says «and don't you mean _madonna_ Daenerys, instead of _famiglia_ Targaryen?» he asserts, his blue eyes cold and demanding. Jorah leans back a bit as if he is surveying him. 

«I am not the only one more loyal to _madonna_ Daenerys than the rest of her _famiglia_ » Jorah bites out «I don't get why you would call me out on it, when you yourself, _comandante_ would gadly do everything for _madonna_ Daenerys»

«I would do anything _for_ her but not _to_ her» Leonardo snaps «I noticed your inappropriate glances towards her. It won't stand, Jorah. She is half your age, she could be your child» he adds «we are meant to protect her, not to _want_ her»

«Are you a mind reader?» Jorah asks.

«I don't need to be to undersand what do you want» he adds taking a menacing step to him.

«No, but my thoughts remain private, I will respond to God of my sins» Jorah adds «I mean to harm to the _dame_ » he adds, slipping easily in german, his native language «I mean only to serve her, or die in the feat of serving her» 

Leonardo is about to reply when _signor_ Viserys appears from the other corner «What are you doing standing around like two peacocks?» he asks «the sultan has invited me to an audience, perhaps we'll celebrate this wedding finally and we'll be rid of this damned place»

Magister Illyrio is following the _signore_ closely as he pats Jorah shoulder «Come, my friend» he says «this day we finally begin the conquest» he adds with a dreamy, half-obsessive look on his face «what is with the long face, _comandante_? This is a glorious day.» he adds bypassing him and walking down the corridor.

Their encounter put behind them for the time being they follow _signor_ Viserys and magister Illyrio to the room of the divan where _signor_ Viserys is welcomed by the Sultan himself with his _vizier_. 

«Come forward, Viserys of Florence» the vizier says taking a step forward «our _hunkarim_ , the sultan Drogo has decided to accept your offer. He will take for himself your sister, Daenerys Targaryen of Florence and he shall give you gold and gemstones for her» he waves a hand and two servants brng forward a chest, at another gesture they open the lid showing the inside, a chest full of golden coins and gemstones and precious items. 

Viserys eyes shines. Leonardo feels nauseated as the _signor_ looks approvingly over the price paid for his sister. 

«His magnanimous _hunkarim_ » the vizier goes on «also will send with you to Florence troops of his finests warriors for a number of no more then one thousand and half with the promise to send eventually reinforces if called upon, _but_ » he adds _«hunkarim_ also wants his issue from Daenerys _hatun_ to be recognized in the line of succession of Florence and eventually Italy after your own children obviously»

Leonardo wants to scream to them not to accept. Good Lord can they not see what he means to do? He will get from this a beautiful woman and wife, what's more he'll also get the Targaryens to wage war in his stead to reunite Italy for him because if his children are recognized in line of succession if something were to happen to Viserys and his children (and Leonardo has the striking impression something _will_ happen to Viserys and his children once everything is done with) the muslims will get Italy under their control and in Italy the Pope resides the Holy Father and representat of the Catholic Church of Earth. 

But _signor_ Viserys does not see beyond his own ambitions. 

This does not bode well, not at all. 

* * *

**Italian sentences translation:**

_è giusto?:_ am I wrong?/is it right?

 _anche io ho molti impegni!:_ i am very busy too!

 _oramai:_ now

 _attenta bambina:_ careful, child.

(The other translations from turkish and german and italian too, you find in the previous chapter as they are words already used and translated)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. What do you think of it?
> 
> We'll have a Viserys chapter next and then another Jon's. 
> 
> What do you think of the characters so far? What do you think will happen as things progress? Will Daenerys bend to Sultan Drogo's will or will she not? 
> 
> Let me know.
> 
> As always, sending all my love -G.


	7. Viserys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys replies to the sultan offers and decides what to do next.

**_Viserys I_ **

«I want more men» he says as soon as the vizier has finished talking, he takes another step, brings his hands behind his back «More men and more reassurances you will come when called. I give you my sister, after all, she is of the blood of Julius Caesar, not some whore you can buy everywhere» he adds. 

He misses the way  _ comandante  _ Leonardo flinches, but he does not misses the way the eyes of the sultan become slits «She’s my sister, my  _ only  _ sister of the blood of Julius Caesar, she is worth more than a thousand men» he adds. 

The sultan looks at the vizier and nods «One thousand and half, no more» he says «she’s will be paid for with the gemstones, the gold and the men. No more than what we have offered you, and you shall sign a decree in which you recognize the sultan’s offspring from her as your next in line if your heirs are done for»

Viserys doesn’t even have to think it over.

«Very well, and you shall recognize  _ Casa  _ Targaryen as the rightful rulers of Italy» he says, when sultan Drogo nods he smiles «then we have an accord, your majesty. My sister for your help to conquer Italy and put a crown over my head»

The Sultan makes a gesture with a hand as if to recognize him as such. The vizier nods.

«Consider it done» he says «in exchange you will leave your two men here»

Viserys blinks «Who?»

The vizier gestures to  _ comandante  _ Leonardo and ser Jorah «The sultan has seen them in the training yard with their men and has seen their competence, they will be awarded position in the guard of Daenerys  _ hatun  _ when she will convert to Islam, proved they can do the same to remain in her service»

Viserys bristles «I can leave you ser Jorah, but not  _ comandante  _ Leonardo, he is the head of my guard, I cannot leave him behind»

The vizier just shrugs «Find yourself a new head of your guard,  _ prince  _ Viserys» he says using, correctly the title Viserys should be recognized as his father’s heir to the throne of Italy «because  _ comandante  _ Leonardo, once he converts, will be recognized as head of Daenerys’  _ hatun  _ guard» he adds. 

Viserys turns to the  _ comandante _ «You won’t accept such demands, will you,  _ comandante _ ?»

The man’s blue eyes are cold as he turns them to him «I am afraid I’m left with no choice,  _ signore _ » he says before looking at the sultan «but, I must ask why would the sultan award such a position to a former christian, instead of a man loyal to him?»

The sultan studies the  _ comandante  _ then he stands up and slowly walks to them, when they are face to face Viserys can see that he is ignored as the sultan looks intently at his  _ comandante _ . 

He talks in his guttural language and then turns to the vizier who translates «our  _ hunkar _ awards loyalty above all else - he says - the choice of a former christian for a wife means Daenerys’  _ hatun  _ won’t easily be accepted in her role as his main wife because she is a converted, she’ll need loyal people and the sultan appreciates the loyalty you have for her. Obviously such loyalty must be also shown to his Majesty.» the vizier adds.

The sultan says something.

«Do you find these terms acceptable,  _ comandante _ ?» the vizier asks.

«NO!» Viserys bristles at the same time as comandante Leonardo replies « _ Sì _ , your majesty. I find them acceptable, proved that no harm comes to Daenerys  _ hatun _ »

The sultan replies something and the vizier translates «You shall ensure that yourself, and for any harm came to her while she is under your protection you’ll pay ten times over»

The sultan nods, clasps his hands behind his back and walks back to his throne. When he is seated at it again, he waves a hand.

«You are dismissed,  _ prince  _ Viserys and retinue» the vizier says, his tone a clear dismissal, VIserys is bristling with barely contained rage. 

As soon as they are out in the corridor he takes hold of the fabric of the doublet wore by  _ comandante  _ Leonardo and shoves him against a pillar. 

« _ Traditore _ » he hisses in between his breaths.

The man looks bored, he takes hold of his wrists and with a strong tug free himself of his hold, his grip on his wrist so strong Viserys almost flinches.

« _ Non sono io quello che ha venduto la sorella per un pugno di uomini, qualche moneta e delle pietre preziose a un selvaggio _ » he replies, his tone chilling him to the bone. 

«Sacrifices must be made for greatness»

«Not such sacrifices»

«Caesar gave his only daughter, Julia, as wife to his worst enemy, Pompeius» Viserys justifies «I am doing the same.»

«You aren’t» ser Jorah intervenes «Pompeius was still a roman, an oppositor, but still a roman, with the same register of values and the same idea of valor, the same gods and living in the same city» 

Viserys looks at him, his friend, as if he has been betrayed, and he has, once again. 

«You dare?» he says «you’d choose her over me?»

Ser Jorah straightens his shoulder «Aye» he replies in german «I came all this way only to protect her»

Viserys feels as if he has been punched in the gut, his own breath knocked out of his lungs. All those late evenings around the fire talking about conquering Italy together, him as his loyal friend and vassal… 

… all for nothing.

… all lies. 

He feels his anger sparkling to life in his purple eyes, he approaches the man who doesn’t even move one muscle «I’ve seen it, you know?» he says «the way you look at her, you could have had her - he said - had you stayed by me until the end» he takes a step back from the man and shakes his head «what a pity» 

He then turn tails and reaches magister Illyrio, as he bypasses him he sneers «I want the men the sultan has promised me to be ready before first light» he demands «we leave come morrow» he adds «and be done with traitors, infidels and sisters»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, what do you think of it?
> 
> I found a bit difficult to write Viserys in the right way, prissy and winy and childish, and more than anything else incapable of looking beyond his own ambitions and feelings. How do you think he turned out?
> 
> Next up we have another Jon chapter. 
> 
> What do you think Daenerys will do, abanonend by her brother, pratically prisoner of her husband-to-be, her only allies her handmaidens and the men left behind but with almost no way to interact with? Will she try to escape? 
> 
> Let me know, what you think of it. 
> 
> As always sending all my love -G.


	8. Jon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crusade goes on and Jon has to take the lead, why does this keep happening to you Jon?, why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello?! How are you, are you excited for this chapter? Jon and Daenerys will meet soon(ish) but we are getting there... I am super excited to hear what you think of this chapter, because here we are remaking history and changing it a bit for our fanfiction purposes (blame Louen_Leoncoeur for any inaccuracies, he asked for many of them :P, if I am going down for historical inaccurancy I am taking you down with me).
> 
> Without further ado....let's get on with the chapter.

**_On historical accuracy (read after the note after the chapter)_ **

_Jon III_

The turks attack swiftly, unpredictable in that spit of earth they war for with the byzantines. They attack on their horses, their archers lethal against their infantry. 

Jon is not there to fight with the infantry, but he fights nonetheless, his pride still burning after his last encounter with a byzantine general he is glad to be rid of. 

_Der rächende Prinz_ , the avenging prince, that is how they call him now after his fight and raid of a monastery outside of Adrianople. And _aye_ Jon had felt exactly like that. 

When news had come of that poor crusader who had been robbed and killed in the monastery outside Adrianople his uncle had all but demanded from Jon he avenged the man, a german like them, and in doing so restored their bruised pride. 

He had taken Tormund and a small contingent of the main army and he had brought them to the monastery, he had first asked for the culprits to be handed over, when the monks had refused Jon had not asked twice, he had jumped on his red destrier immediately, Tormund hot on his heels. His _knappe_ had offered him his spear and Jon had wielded it as he launched Sturm in battle as they raided the monastery. 

They had found and killed the culprits, demanding back the sum they had killed the crusader for. 

The monks had later said, when the byzantine general had intervened to avoid any further escalation, that he had rode inside the monastery as if no mortal blade could touch him, as if the angels rode with him.

Jon had felt empowered by that. 

Though he could have snapped the neck of the byzantine general, if he could have after he had called him _boy_ and had told him to mind his own temperament if he didn’t want to put to test the hospitality of the byzantine’s prisons. He had half set Ghost, his white wolfhound, on him though and his expression of horror when the beast had advanced to him, his fangs bared, had been enough to leave him satisfied of the way he had handled the thing.

«You look too sly, what are you thinking of?» Tormund asks as they ride. After a fall out with the byzantine they had taken Anatolia by land, but as of four days ago, his uncle - under the pressing of the turkmen ambushes - had decided to go back the same way they had come and find an alternative way.

He merely shrugs.

«What, - Tormund jests - the now _duke of Swabia_ is too above ol’ little me to actually reply to my questions? Should I find myself a new friend?» 

Jon rolls his eyes «Why do you feel neglected, my friend?» he questions a brow arched «Besides I still don’t really feel like it, the duke of Swabia»

«Better you than your child half-brother» Tormund shrugs «No offence for the boy, but I don’t like his mother, she’s chilling»

Jon thinks the same. His father had been furious when Jon had told him he was to go with his uncle to the Holy Land, he all but demanded Jon remained home, caring for his father’s widow and young son, his half-brother, he also wanted for him to marry some german noblewoman, but Jon had reminded him he had swore a oath before God to fight for the Holy Land and to marry _dame_ Daenerys and he intended to keep his vows. 

His father had died not much later and Jon had departed from Regensburg seven weeks later, the duke of Swabia and still unmarried. 

Their crusade seems half bad-fated though since they have already been hit by terrible calamities such as a flash flood his uncle was convinced caused by the turkmen that had almost destroyed completely the main camp. 

Now the turkmen raids and ambushes had forced them to turn back. 

«I was thinking about general Prosuch, by the way» he adds and Tormund leans back on his horse laughing.

«Good Lord!» he exclaims «I thought he was shitting himself!» he laughs and as if evoked Ghost pads closer to them swiftly and silent.

Jon smiles at seeing him when a shout and the clamor from the rear of their procession brings his attention to his _knappe,_ the squire is young and clearly at his first real war, but he is brave and loyal, both qualities Jon appreciates. 

«What it is?» he asks and the young man offers him a parchment, he can recognize his uncle’s scrivener’s handwriting anywhere, even if its smudged and the page is stained with blood.

The horses are agitated. 

He looks up from the parchment «We must make haste» he says «the turks have attacked the rear of our procession» he adds «my uncle the Emperor bids me to ride on in advance to Louis to ask for help» he grips the parchment so tight that it almost shrinks down a size.

«Damn!» Tormund exclaims but he follows him without further ado. Back towards the upcoming battle.

* * *

The turkmen obviously weren’t expecting for Jon to join forces with his uncle - already escorted as far as possible for the battlefront after having been wounded by arrows - they had surprised them with a pincer move. 

Their chivalry is half the turks, but they are as equally equipped and they are not expected. 

What more, thanks to the turkmen distraction in engaging the main army, Jon and Tormund had been able to lead their small chivalry around the enemy’s forces.

He rides in battle on his red horse, swinging his spear around his head and against his enemies, felling every single one of them, Ghost howling before launching himself in battle too. The main army - already decimated - find courage in seeing their companions ride in to their rescue. 

Tormund is unseated from his horse and for a moment Jon is afraid for his friend, but his war cry as he swings his great-axe around alerts him that he is alive and well, so Jon rides forward. 

The battle lasts no more than three hours and by the end of it there are no turkmen left standing - some have escaped - and Jon has successfully imprisoned the chief of the attack on them, a _Bey,_ and his second in command. 

* * *

«How is my uncle?» he asks as soon as he enters the main tent erected in the aftermath of the battle.

«The physicians are with him, _mein Prinz_ » his uncle’s cupbearer tells him «he was conscient until they gave him a sleeping draught to help him go through the surgery»

Jon nods and looks around to his uncle’s _Generäle_. 

The generals are worn out, but stand proudly and they bow to him as Jon approaches his uncle’s chair and sits on it, symbolizing both metaphorically and physically that he is the one in charge now, especially considering how terrible and catastrophic the defeat could have been had Jon not been bold and turned back, riding instead to Louis. 

Ghost, still half covered in blood and gore pads to him, sitting on his rear-paws at the feets of the chair, Tormund leisurely leaning against the table. 

He turns to his _knapp_ «Have the _Bey_ and his second brought inside» he issues, the young man nods - he carries himself with more confidence now and Jon is glad for it, he is sure he’ll find a moment to knight the man himself soon, for his services - and walks outside the tent. 

«What do you mean to do, _mein Prinz_?» one of the generals asks him.

«We will ask a ransom for the _Bey_ » he says «I am sure the Sultan will not like for his man to be in our hands» he mulls over, thinking if perhaps he could issue the request to exchange _dame_ Daenerys with the _Bey_. Questioning if the sultan would take such an offer. 

The generals nod.

«I will ask that the Sultan gives us back _dame_ Daenerys for his _Bey_ , after all she is my betrothed _and_ a most beloved daughter of the Holy Father»

«He won’t accept, not for a _woman_ » one of the generals says. 

Jon nods «Perhaps not» he confirms «but I’ll have at least tried to get her back without using force» he shrugs «and if he doesn’t accept...» he turns to Tormund who is smirking «we’ll show him what happens when an infidel tries to overpower us» 

«Aye» 

«Aye»

«Aye»

« _Mein Prinz_ » his knappe enters the tent «I’ve brought forward the prisoners as you asked» he says gesturing for the entrance.

«Very well, Gendry» Jon nods «Have them brought inside» 

The _Bey_ is wounded, though not too bad, and he is still covered in blood and gore, same with his second in command who looks to be unharmed. 

  
  


«Welcome» Jon greets them «I am Jon of the House Hohenstaufen, duke of Swabia and prince of Germany» he adds «acting liege in my uncle’s stead as he recovers from his battle wounds» he says «Have some refreshment brought for these men» he orders «I hope you find our _hospitality_ of your liking» he burrows his hand in Ghost’ fur.

He has an interpreter at the ready to translate, but it appears that there is no need for one for the man seems to have understood everything Jon has said. 

«I know who you are, _cehennem köpeği_ » the _Bey_ replies, his voice heavily accented «you ride with the hordes from hell; I am Mustafa _Bey_ » 

«It depends on who you talk to» Jon says shrugging «the monks mantain I ride with the angels, you that I ride with the hordes of hell» he waves his hand around «Perhaps I’ll let Ghost explain to you which one is true, perhaps none are, perhaps both are» he comments, nudging Ghost to him.

The white wolfhound stalks close to the prisoners, still covered in soot and blood, his white fur stained red and his eyes and growls. Jon lets the wolfhound come as close as he will to the prisoners and though clearly afraid both stand their ground. Jon respects bravery. 

As his father always said _when one is afraid, that is the only time he can be brave_. He whistles and the wolfhound trots back to him without even glancing back to the prisoners.

«Now that the introductions have been made, - Jon says resting his hands on the pommels of the chair - let’s talk about business»

«Sultans and Beys do not compromise with infidels» Mustafa _Bey_ replies. 

«Very well then, we shan’t compromise» Jon shrugs «I will send your second in command back to Konya» he says «there is someone there who I wish to get back, I will exchange you for _dame_ Daenerys Targaryen of Florence»

«The pale woman?» he blinks «Why would you want her? The sultan won’t give you her - he says - he’s quite taken with the infidel, he plans to have her convert and then marry her»

_So_ , Jon thinks with a smirk, _she has yet to convert and to lay with him. Well done, Mädchen mit der Lilie, I am on my way, resist a bit more._

«Why I want her back is my business, not yours, Mustafa _Bey_ » he retorts «and the Sultan shall give her back or I will raise Hell and move Heaven above against Konya and there won’t be a single building left standing after I am through with it» he promises.

He then waves a hand and the guards take hold of the man’s arms escorting him outside «Have him cleaned up, looked over and fed, gorge him with force if you have to» he issues and he watches as the man is escorted outside. He stands up and turns to his second in command «You, instead, no I care not for your name» he says, as the interpreter translates for him «you will bring my message to Sultan Drogo» he says «He either admits defeat and delivers to me alive and well Daenerys Targaryen untouched and unharmed, or I will storm Konya and return his great city to dust. The choice is his.»

His message is clear. _She is mine and I am coming for her._

Jon does not know from where this possessiveness of the woman, a woman he doesn’t even know, come. But he has it. She is his. No matter that he doesn’t know her yet and perhaps he’d find her terribly insipid or unworthy of a second glance. And yet she has been promised to him, and he’ll let no infidel have her, not now, not ever.

* * *

**German words translations**

_Der rächende Prinz:_ the avenging prince

 _knappe:_ squire

 _Mein Prinz_ : my prince

 _Generäle:_ generals

 _Mädchen mit der Lilie:_ maiden/girl with the lily

**Turkish translations**

_cehennem köpeği:_ hellhound

 _Bey:_ a title used to refer to the head of a Tribe 

  
  


* * *

**_Historical accuracy_ **

The battle of Dorylaeum took place in October 1147. Historically it was a number of clashes in several days, but in this fic I have it compacted in one single clash. In real history Frederick I did ride to Louis of France to bring him news of the battle and to ask for help. 

Conrad III got wounded by arrows in real history as well, though it was a complete defeat during which the crusaders lost almost all of their baggage and the infantry was annihilated while the better equipped and wealthier chivalry remained mostly untouched.

The Turks won in real history but (as I have said from the very first chapter) in this fic the second crusade will be won by the Crusader (through no hill will for those who recognize themselves with the Turks, but simply to appease to the fic itself; I hope no one gets offended) so the ending of the battles will be different than in truth.

In real history the Turks got the ransom from the crusade prisoners, not the other way around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, let me know what you think of it, I must specify again in case anyone gets offended by somethings the characters of this story say: I am aware the crusaders were there for power and conquering and political reasons, I do not share in their views of muslims and non-christians, what they say it's though what people of that time would have said. Hope not offend anyone.
> 
> As always let me know what you think about it, are you excited for Jon and Dany to meet soon? How do you think it will happen? How will Drogo react to Jon's challange? How will Daenerys take the news of the crusaders fighting and demanding her release? Will she try to escape and join them for protection?
> 
> Is Viserys still around? What is he doing? Does he know about the crusade taking place?
> 
> As always sending all my love -G.


	9. Daenerys IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys learns something and she decides to act...  
> ...but how will it end?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! How are you? I'm going to go ahaed with chapter I just meant to say that there is violence depicted in it, so if you don't feel comfortable with it you know what to expect.

_Daenerys IV_

_**S** _he is escorted inside the great throne room, damp and darkened, only the torches lighting the way. Irri, Doreah and Jihqui are with her, and Daenerys feels slightly anxious. 

Viserys has departed, by ship, two weeks ago with the men the sultan has given him, the money and the gemstones with which he has paid for her. Daenerys has felt utterly alone since then, and yet she also feels freer. 

The Sultan is not alone, he is with his vizier - a bony man with a long grey beard and a proud bearing - he stands, instead than being seated, his hands clasped behind his back so forcefully the knuckles are white. 

«You called for me, _hunkar_?» she asks, curtseying as Irri, Jihqui and Doreah do the same. She has just been given the time to don her hat before bringing her to his presence. Daenerys is afraid something grievous has happened. 

_Comandante_ Leonardo and ser Jorah are not present, that makes her feel less safe. The sultan turns, his eyes are cold and cruel. 

«You’ve eaten at my table» he hisses «I have shared my meals with you»

_Not that I asked you to, anyway._

«We talked and I… I felt as if something was changing, as if you were slowly becoming… _willing_ »

_You wish_ , she sighs «Has something happened, _hunkar_?» she asks then, feigning interest «I am afraid I don’t...»

« _ **SILENCE!**_ »

She cringes and flinches at his tone and at the glint, the fury in his onyx gaze. 

«You’ve spoken already too much!» he yells, his eyes glinting with blinding fury «I have given you my regard, wrongly so. You have defied me at every turn, not even willing to convert to finally be free of your treacherous faith, as if you care not for the regard I showed to you»

_I care not for it,_ she thinks, _besides I am your prisoner, not your equal. You’ve said so._

«Have I done something to displease you, _hunkarim_?» she asks then «if so, you have my most heartfelt apologies» 

«I care nothing for you apologies!» he screams and he launches a fist in the air, he is steps away from reach and yet Daenerys takes a step back, her amethyst eyes sparkling with fear «Your _people_ have come and now they demand I, I who am the State, yield to their demands as if I was but a beggar» his jaw clenches and Daenerys blinks.

_The italians have come all this way - Florence is just a little city in a small country after all - to demand her release?_ And they must have already won at least one great battle to _actually_ be able to demand anything of the Sultan. 

She exchanges a look with Jihqui. They had started with some difficulties, but they had grown closer and Jihqui has become her sort of shadow in the palace, telling her those things she’d have difficulty to know without someone on the outside to bring her news. 

The girl looks at her intently but slowly nods. 

«Florence is a small city» she tries «I am sure they wouldn’t come demanding...»

«I am not talking of that blasted city!» he snaps.

_Then who..._ the question is almost on her lips when she remembers the rosary buried deep under her clothes. 

_Rhaegar._

_Rhaegar in Rome._

**_Amata sorella,_ ** _Rome is a great city which holds so much history you can listen to it walk around its streets if you close your eyes and pay attention…_

_… the Pope is kind, I think he appreciates me. I expect to be made Cardinal in a matter of a couple of months._

_Rhaegar in Rome with the_ **_Pope_ ** _who seemed to favor him._ She blinks, could her brother have pleaded with the Holy Father to get an _armata_ with which to demand her release? Knowing Rhaegar and his penchant with stories and words she can believe he would be able to raise a riot in a _campo santo_.

She forces herself not to smile.

Her brother is coming for her. 

«I do not know what you are talking about, _hunkarim_ » she says, her tone determined «But I am sure that your Majesty will be able to crush his enemies without problems» she adds. 

«That’s exactly what I will do» he nods «They will bring the fight to Konya, very well, I’ll be ready and I will slaughter every single one of them and _you_ » he adds, his eyes glinting terrifyingly «you shall convert and give me sons»

_I will do nothing of the sort,_ she wants to retort, _I will escape and you’ll see not even my shadow,_ she promises herself. But she curtsies and cocks her head to the side.

«As you were, Daenerys _hatun_ » he snaps gesturing for her to consider herself dismissed, not that she cares much for his dismissal, her mind already running a mile per minute as she tries to cocoon a plan to escape this turkish prison and reunite with Rhaegar.

«Have her watched» he issues in turkish, perhaps convinced she does not know better, but Daenerys is surprisingly good with languages, she has found, and understands the gists of his order.

Irri, Doreah and Jihqui are hot on her heels and as soon as they enter her chambers they crowd in on her «What did the sultan mean?» Doreah demanded «have the infidels come to get you?»

Daenerys has to fight off the tears of joy and the blinding smile as she turns to the _kadin_ , her gaze steely «I know nothing of it» she says, her tone bokering no replies «and this shall not stand, I have to know _everything_ » she adds. 

Her three handmaidens exchanges concerned looks. Daenerys sighs «I know you believe this to be safest and best place in the world, but not for me.»

«But...» Doreah tries «if you bend and convert you’ll be a _sultana_! The legal wife of the sultan, all of his other women will pale in comparison with the power you would wield!»

Jihqui nods, but Irri stays silent. 

«I care nothing for power, Doreah» Daenerys says «I am but a noblewoman from a small city, all I want is to go home, be reunited with my family»

Doreah blinks «Your family sold you for a bit of gems and some men» the phrase is like a slap in the face, but Daenerys raises her chin defiantly. 

«You may believe it or not, Doreah» she hisses «but I have someone else in my family, someone who loves me enough to raise a war against the sultan of a far off place»

«You have a lover?» Irri questions and Daenerys shakes her head.

«No» she says «nothing like that» she adds «my oldest brother, Rhaegar was in Rome, away from Florence when my father and brother Viserys decided to sell me to the sultan» she explains «he must have learned of it and came to save me, he is a great fighter»

Irri blinks «You are loved back home» she says, in her dark eyes Daenerys sees the ineluctable truth, Irri had believed her unloved at home, and wished for her to find her place here. Daenerys nods.

The handmaiden nods in return «Then, Daenerys _hatun_ I will help you return home» she states. Daenerys is so touched by the determination she can see in her eyes, as if that realization has hit some deep, raw spot in Irri’ soul. 

«I wasn’t always a _kadin_ » she says as if to explain «I know what it means to miss home, but have no one to return to, you have someone to return to. I will help you get to him» she then turns her stony, hard gaze on Jihqui and Doreah. 

The latter shrugs «Whatever, I was starting to feel cooped up in this palace all day long» she says «I guess a change of scenery will do me good» 

Jihqui looks to be the most hesitant. Daenerys knows, from her conversations with the girl, that she was poor and her mother ill, the mother of sultan Drogo, when he was still a prince, had sent healers for her mother, but when she had died, she had welcomed Jihqui in her retinue, making sure she was educated enough to serve in the sultan’s household. 

«You needn’t to do anything» Daenerys promises her, clasping her hands in hers «Whatever you decide, know you’ll have always a place with me, no matter what God you pray or in what way you do»

She sees the moment the words get to her, she sees the young scared girl who believed to have lost everything once upon a time, saved by someone now dead, and wanting to do good to their memory, but torn against her loyalty to Daenerys. 

Jihqui nods «What do you need me to do, Daenerys _hatun_?»

* * *

The plan is simple, and maybe exactly for that reason it’s mad genius. Daenerys had had Jihqui - the most trusted member of her retinue - acquire some red berries to squash to make a dye for her silvery blond hair, knowing all too well how tell-tale they could be. 

Ser Jorah was to make sure they had an escape route from the palace’s _harem_ , while Irri and Doreah would feign to bring Daenerys to the _hammam_ . Outside of it _comandante_ Leonardo would dispatch of the guards and bring them and Missandei outside of the palace from the servant’s quarter that’d be conveniently empty thanks to Jihqui.

It’s simple, which is why everything goes South the exact moment Daenerys, Irri and Doreah are joined by _comandante_ Leonardo. 

Missandei is nowhere to be found. 

Jihqui joins them, as of plan, sometimes later, but she’s not alone. She’s crying and it is clear, by her bruising eye and split lip that she’s been beaten - her dress is open on the back -and two guards shove her to Daenerys. 

Daenerys catches her in her arms and she sees her once clear, dark skinned back is now raw and tender because she has been brutally beaten. 

«Daenerys _hatun_ , the sultan requires your presence» one of the guards smirks, Daenerys though is still occupied with holding a shivering Jihqui. 

«You three» the guard adds to his companions «have these three traitors brought to the cells»

Daenerys tries to protest, to fight and _comandante_ Leonardo is ready to fight, the guard smirks and unsheathes his curved sword. They engage in a fight and though _comandante_ Leonardo is clearly better than the man, there are four of them and they overpower him, though with difficulty.

«Have him brought down too» the guard orders, cleaning his blood from his chin. 

But Daenerys has no intention to be stopped, so she grips a torch, ready to fight until the very end if necessary.

Irri’s hand is on her wrist as she gently takes the torch from her hand «Let go, Daenerys _hatun_ » she says «it is done» 

There are tears in her eyes. Daenerys feels like she wants to cry too, but a movement catches her eye. Missandei is there, half hidden behind the corner, her big golden eyes are screaming so much she looks afraid. Daenerys knows what she must do now. 

«Very well» she says «I will come, after all I’d never would have made it to ser Jorah in time, would have I?» she asks as she slips her hand in the fabric covering her left arm, she inconspicuously hooks her finger against the rosary and slowly slid it down her sleeve as she brings her hands behind her back. 

«Good _hatun_ » the guard smirks lasciviously and he comes closer to her trying to shake her from her left arm, Daenerys trashes and manages to knee him on the side. He shoves her and slaps her so hard Daenerys feels her lip pulsing as she falls to the ground.

Doreah tries to attack, while Irri screams and Jihqui sobs. Daenerys breathes slowly. 

_In …_

... _out_

_In…_

_...out_

She lets the rosary fall on the stone floor, shoving it to the side as she feigns getting on her feet with rage, rage showing clearly in her sparkling purple eyes if the fear she sees for a moment. She then steels herself and defies with her steel gaze the man to touch her again. 

«I will come» she says «but they must be released»

«You are in position to demand anything, _soluk tavuk_ » he says as he begins to shove her, escort her to the throne room. Daenerys makes as much opposition as she can to see the men bringing away _comandante_ Leonardo and her handmaidens and she catches Missandei’ gaze. She glances at the rosary, miraculously unnoticed by the guards. The small girl nods. 

Daenerys only hopes Rhaegar will believe her. 

* * *

Sultan Drogo is dressed for war. 

«So» he comments «you have chosen the side you’re on» he comments, his eyes cold. There is no fury, only cruelty and calm. Determination.

«I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, should I?» he wonders «you never did make show that my advances were accepted» he sighs, he then descends from the raised platform on which the _divan_ towers over the hall.

Daenerys stands her ground «I would like to say I’m sorry, but I truly am not. I was brought here against my will, I played the part but my goal was always to escape»

«I misjudged you» the sultan says «when I first laid eyes on your portrait I thought you were an angel sent from Heaven and Allah himself to bring me joy and sons» 

Daenerys forces herself not to flinch when he hooks his gigantic hand under the veil wrapped around her head and raises it away from her head with one, violent gesture, unpinning her hair, the now bright red tresses falling loose against her shoulder.

«Instead» he adds «you are but a demon forged in the flames of hell, and I almost fell for it too» he twirls a fiery red curl around his finger then lets it fall loose. 

«Have her beaten and thrown in the dungeons, when I return victorious I will decide on her fate»

One of the men unwraps his whip from his waist and smirks, Daenerys almost shudders but sets her jaw. 

«You will lose» she foretells him «my brother will slay you in the battlefield and he will crown me with your head» she promises.

Sultan Drogo’s smirk is full of confidence «Ah, my sweet demon» he tells her «your brother is not the one who came for you» he tells her «If I die on the battlefield» he issues «kill her _after_ you her treacherous friends»

He walks away from the hall, as Daenerys is shoved against a column, they then chain her to the stone wall by both wrists and tear apart her dress on her white, ivory back, now naked before them. 

The first lash stings, but Daenerys sets her jaw and refuses to scream. It’s by the fifth lash that she hisses as the tears come streaming down her face. She counts thirteen hits before she lose consciousness. 

_Your brother is not the one who came for you…_

_...your brother…_

_...not the one…_

Daenerys dreams of spring in the garden of her villa in Florence. The cherry blossom’s perfume filling her nostrils, the garden is in full bloom and Daenerys has never felt so alive before. 

A child runs, she is small and has silver curls bouncing around her shoulders, she wears a white dress as she runs after a boy. Daenerys smiles, she misses being so carefree as she is in the dream, her child version running after Viserys most probably. She makes to look up to see her brother as he had been _before_ the ambition set inside his mind. 

… Daenerys gets awoken by the cold, hard ground. Her back is numb and tender and she feels the cold against her bare back making her shiver. Her head pulses and her lip is bruised. 

«Daenerys _hatun!_ » Irri calls from the adjacent cell «Are you alright?» She is clearly concerned. 

Daenerys hisses between her breaths and despite her back hurting like hell she manages to get on hand and knees, the fury raging inside of her burning hotter than the raw skin of her back. She breathes out and scoots on her backside until her back hits the cold stone wall giving the burning skin a bit of relief.

«I am fine» she says «hurt but I’ll be fine» she promises «how is Jihqui?»

«She’s sleeping now. Allah protected her» she replies «and you» 

_Allah did no protecting,_ Daenerys wants to bite out, but she keeps her silence.

«Where have they taken _comandante_ Leonardo?» she asks after a long while in which she merely stayed silent, breathing and thanking God for letting her live through it.

«Down» Irri replies «he was screaming, now he stopped»

Daenerys feels the tears filling her eyes, she hugs her legs to her chest and sobs.

_Your brother is not the one who came for you..._

_...You are much more than just a little, scared girl from a little city in a old land_. 

* * *

**Italian words translations**

_Amata sorella:_ beloved sister

 _campo santo:_ cemetery

 **Turkish translations (** again sorry for any inaccuracy, but I am using google translate, if something is wrong please feel free to tell me **)**

 _hunkar/hunkarim:_ your majesty

 _kadin:_ lady/woman

 _soluk tavuk:_ pale hen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are...  
> ...Poor Daenerys, for those who are wondering I suppose that fifteen lashes can make a woman loose consciousness and that is why Daenerys fainted. Now, not wanting to offend anyone, but such a punishment was not uncommon with both christians and muslims so I don't inted any offence in having Daenerys treated in such a way, I think accurate enough such a corporal punishment for a crime as treason. 
> 
> What do you think will happen now? Daenerys was great withstanding all of that and still being cool-blooded enough to think of a way to make news come to her brother that she is still alive and kicking. But... it's not her brother who came for her. 
> 
> ...What will Missandei do?  
> ...What will Jon do?
> 
> Let me know what you think of it. As always sending all my love -G.


	10. Missandei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What will Missandei do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, how are you? Hope last chapter didn't scare you off this ;) Anyway here's what Missandei went through after Daenerys got imprisoned, what did she do? To whom did she go?

_Missandei I_

She crunches down, blinking away the tears and she grasps the rosary in her small hand. It looks so much bigger in her small slender hand than in Daenerys hatun's. She holds it to her chest before hiding in the waist-band of her corset, securely hidden before anyone else's eyes. 

She knows it'd be foolish to try and get to ser Jorah now, surely the sultan's men are patrolling the keep, but Missandei must find a way to get to him. Daenerys hatun trusts him, though she trusts comandante Leonardo more. 

The nordic knight is Missandei's only hope to get to Daenerys _hatun_ 's brother. Her mistress has told her how he looks, so that Missandei knows it's him when she sees him. She says he is handsome, has an oval face, silver hair and purple eyes just as Daenerys hatun does. 

Missandei tries her best to look more minute. The servants knows she was in Daenerys _hatun_ 's service, but they do not know if she was in on the escape plan, so they leave her mostly to be. In the dead of the night, on her makeshift bed Missandei prays like Daenerys hatun has taught her.

She prays, and prays and prays. She knows not all the words, but Daenerys _hatun_ has told her of how the archangel Gabriel had gone to the virgin Mary to tell her she would welcome a child from God himself, a child she had fallen pregnant with thanks to the Holy Spirit. Saint Joseph, her husband, had supported her and raised the child. Jesus. 

Missandei has not understood very well the rest, only that Jesus had said he was a sheperd, a fisher of men and that he and his disciples had brought the Lord's word to the people. He had made people walk again and multiplied bread and fishes...

… Missandei thinks mad that the people had first convicted him and then chosen another, a thief, to be freed, while he died on the cross. But Jesus had sacrificed himself for them, so Daenerys hatun had told her.

And if Daenerys _hatun_ believes Missandei does too.

And the Lord Daenerys _hatun_ believes in will help her find a way to Daenerys _hatun_ 's brother, so that she can save her mistress. 

* * *

She finds the way to escape the sultan's palace when the man himself leaves the premises to go talk to the nearby tribes as the army coming for Daenerys _hatun_ grows closer to Konya every day more. 

Missandei has heard what she can from the people coming to the palace to commerce. It looks like the Pope – Missandei doesn't know who this Pope person is – has called the armies from all the christian world to invade and demand Daenerys _hatun_ 's release. 

She just hopes that Daenerys _hatun's_ brother believes her when she finds him. 

She escapes the other servants sight quite easily, the hard part will be find ser Jorah and then with him find a way to the camp of the christians. She climbs over the small first store window, jumping down it the same way she used to jump down the fences at home. 

Holding the rosary close to herself under the fabric of her small corset, she runs in the streets, disappearing from view. She just hopes she can find ser Jorah quickly or she really does not know how to find a way to the people who came for Daenerys _hatun_. 

She researches for him in every nick or corner of the street, but the sun lowers quickly in the sky and Missandei still has not found him. She cries herself to sleep that night, crounched on herself, her head pressed against her knees, her curly hair becoming damp for the cold and humidity. She shivers and falls asleep when the sun is almost again up in the sky.

She rationates the bread she has been able to hide on her person when she ran away from the palace, but her only company are rats and street orphans. Missandei is so very afraid and she just wishes for her mother.

Her mother would sing to her, she would make her laugh and brush her hair. Her mother would tell her she looks beautiful and Missandei would tell her she is not as beautiful as her. 

It makes her small body wreaking with sobs.

In the end she finds ser Jorah for pure luck. As she is walking as fast as she can without drawing too much attention to herself, trying to mingle in the crowd to loose the evil looking man whose been following her since that very morning, some three days after her escapade, she literally crashes into a stone-made hooded man. When he turns and catches sight of her, his blue eyes are full of surprise and Missandei has never felt so much safe as in the moment he shields her with his body and fingers his sword threatingly to the man. 

The man is clearly already half-drunk and he recognizes a defeat just to happen when he sees it so he stumbles back and mutters something about not wanting to spoil his fun.

«What are you doing here, child!» he snaps, taking her almost roughly by an arm and shoving her in a dark corner «have you betrayed Daenerys?» 

Missandei's eyes fills with tears «Never!» she cries «I... I was late... the sultan...» she sobs. 

Ser Jorah shakes her «What! What has he done now!? If he has touched a hair on her head...»

«I don't know» she whimpers out «he's taken her, I know he had her thrown in the dungeons, but they didn't tell me anything else... only that the men had their fun with punishing her»

His eyes are filled with fury and he lets her go in such a rough manner that Missandei slides against the wall she's been shoved behind and sits on the dusty street. 

His blue eyes fills with regret when he hears her growling stomach and sees how scared she is.

«I'm sorry, Missandei» he crounches next to her «what do you say if I buy you some bread and fruit to eat?» he offers, proffering his hand. Missandei studies him for a bit, then she gingerly takes his – so much bigger than hers – hand in hers.

  
It is as she is eating a ripe fruit she's never tasted before that she asks «How do we get to Daenerys _hatun_ 's brother?» 

«We don't» he replies «he hasn't come for her»

Missandei blinks «Did the sultan lie, then? No one came?»

«No, little one» he shakes his head «someone came alright» he says «I've been collecting information... the Pope called all the christians monarchs to arms» he says «Daenerys _hatun_ 's brother did not come for her, a german prince did» he says so with distaste.

«It's good» Missandei says «he has come for her anyway»

He cards a hand in her curly hair almost affectionately «That's not so simple, little one» he tells her «this german prince has not come out of the goodness of his heart»

She blinks «Then why has he come?»

Ser Jorah shrugs «Whispers in the streets tell that he claims to be her bethroted» he says «he's come because he considers her his»

«What is a bethroted?»

«It's... someone who you are supposed to marry. If he says the truth, Daenerys _hatun_ is supposed to marry him»

«He loves her?» she questions.

«I've not said that, little one» ser Jorah shakes his head «he could simply be defending his male pride»

Missandei blinks «Who cares?» she questions «if he saves Daenerys _hatun_ we have to go ask his help»

They leave the city under the guise of being a merchant from Greece and his daughter that very same day in hope to get to Daenerys _hatun_ 's bethroted in time before something befalls her mistress. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up Jon reacting to learning about Daenerys' mistreatment and what he plans to do. Soon we will get him against Drogo and him meeting Daenerys...are you excited? I am, I have already written their meeting and I can promise fireworks for both of them...from whose point of view do you think I'll share it?
> 
> Let me know what you think. As always sending all my love - G.


	11. Jon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon meets someone and learns of what happened to Daenerys...
> 
> ... what will he do to Drogo when the time comes?, I wonder?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, how are you?Hope everyone is fine! Since this week I'm on the night shift you won't get daily updates but three updates in a week. 
> 
> Still hope they will keep you interested in this story and how things will go for Dany and Jon once they meet. Are you excited to see Jon... every chapter is a chapter closer to their meeting! 
> 
> Now I leave you to the chapter, hope you like it!

  
_Jon IV_

  
Jon breathes out. 

They are growing steadily closer to Konya each day, he is not comfortable with the fact that the tribes have not attacked until now, the ambushes seemingly forgotten. 

_What does the sultan has in mind?_ , he wonders. The generals too are a bit peeved out by the apparent calm. 

«You are growing restless» Tormund tells him as he enters the central tent, since his uncle has been shipped back to Costantinople to be healed, Jon has taken hold of the troops in his stead, the generals believe him young, but respect him because they have seen him ride into battle, still Jon is concerned every step he takes. 

Jon shifts on the chair «So?» he challenges «this paperwork is not going to do itself»

«Didn't your uncle had a scrivener?» Tormund asks. Jon shrugs.

«Aye, so?»

«Why don't you fish him out of where he has hidden himself and stop being cooped up here all day long?» Tormund questions.

«Because he went to Constantinople with my uncle» he deadpans as if his friend is an idiot, which granted he is, but Jon would not change him for the whole, wild world. 

Tormund rolls his eyes «Don't shit with me, lad» he snaps «find yourself your own scrivener, then» he says «and fucking get out of this blasted tent before I have to drag you»

Jon pinches the bridge of his nose «You do know we are at war, right? Scriveners do not just fall off the sky» 

Tormund lets out a frustrated hiss «If I find you a bloody scrivener will you leave this fucking tent?» 

Jon sighs «Fine» he snaps «Find me a bloody scrivener and I'll leave this tent» 

Tormund doesn't need to be told twice, he just turns and leaves. Ghost, at his side whines. 

Jon looks down to his white wolfhound and cards a hand in his white fur «You want to go with him, don't you, boy?» he asks, the wolfhound cocks his head to the side intelligently «Go, then» he says and he nudges Ghost outside.

The wolfhound does turn back once to look at him, but then when Jon waves a hand to him he leaves the tent, his tail swinging happily.

He doesn't know how much time Tormund takes, but at a certain point in the afternoon, well after Jon has taken his mid-day meal, but still a couple of hours before the evening meal, his friend enters his tent with big steps and a big, wide grin on his face. 

«I have found you a scrivener» he announces, gesturing widely. Jon looks up from the parchment he is reading over about their funds, what has remained them of their baggage after the battle near Dorylaeum and such. 

Behind Tormund stands a man not too tall, decisively more round than tall, with a chubby face, kind eyes and dark hair. He is clearly clumsy as Tormund brings him forward «His name is Samwell» he says «and he knows his letters well»

Jon arches a brow «And you would know how, since you can barely sign your own name, Tormund?»

His friend though take no slight at his questions, he just grins «Trust me, I know a man of letters when I see one»

Jon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose «Come forward, Samwell» he says in the end, gesturing with a hand. The young man does, in his own clumsy way.

« _Mein Prinz_ , it's a honor to meet you in person» his voice is heavily accented and Jon looks at him in wonder.

«You speak german well» he congratulates him «but I seem unable to understand your provenience by your accent» 

«That would not surprise me, _mein Prinz_ » he offers «my family is german but my father was a young knight who fought in the first crusade and late settled in Antioch» he adds «I and my siblings were born in Antioch» he says.

Jon nods «That would explain the accent» he says «and what are you doing here, Samwell? Antioch is still well, as far as I know»

«It is, mein Prinz» he nods «it still stands strong» he adds «but... my father is old now, he was a young man of five and ten when he joined the first crusade» he says «he would have fought... he sent my brother in his stead, Dickon» he adds «and I... what kind of brother would I be if I left my little brother go to war alone?» 

There is something there... something Jon can't quite put a finger on. The way this Samwell speaks of his father makes him believe that their relationship may be more strained than what he tells. 

«You... you actually saved my brother's life, _mein Prinz_ » he adds, fidgeting with his hands «Not that I'd expect you to remember, you must have saved so many lives that day... still, I'm eternally grateful to you. My brother... he is a good man, a good brother, I would have despaired had I lost him» 

Jon doesn't say anything at that, so Samwell goes on «I would... I would pledge my sword — he says — but I'm afraid it wouldn't be particularly useful as I am not a warrior, but I know my letters» he adds, and his tone turns hopeful «if I can help you in any way, it'd be my honor to pledge my services to you, _mein Prinz_ »

Jon sees no lies in his dark eyes, so he nods «Very well, Samwell» he says «there is a position open for a scrivener if you feel up to it» he states.

The young man's face brightens and he bows clumsily « _Danke, mein Prinz_ » he repeats, over and over again. It almost makes Jon smile. He likes this young man, he looks like a good sort — which is becoming increasingly difficult to find — and ready to be loyal to fault. Jon can appreciate such qualities as much as power in battle. 

He stands up and dusts his doublet and smiles at the man «Welcome in my services, young Samwell» he says offering him his hand to take. Samwell makes to kiss his ring, but Jon stops him and instead grabs his arm up to his elbow urging him to do the same. 

« _Danke, mein Prinz_ » 

Jon nods and lets go of his arm, then he stretches — after having spent most of the morning and afternoon cooped up and seated at a desk — and then turns to Tormund «Fine» he concedes to his hopeful and satisfied look «I'll get out of this tent now, happy?»

«You don't know how much» his friend grins. 

He turns to the young man «Samwell help yourself to anything you might need» he offers «and please, do sort out that paperwork so that I just have to look it over and sign it»

«As you command, _mein Prinz_ » 

Then Jon leaves the tent, following Tormund outside. 

«Now, _mein_ _hübsche Prinzessin_ » his red-headed friend says «I am going to bash your head with my fists» 

«As if!» and that is how he finds himself in the training grounds with the men, that firstly welcome him as if he is some kind of god, but then as he unsheathes his sword and starts fighting with them and with Tormund they grow steadily more welcoming and happy to actually see him.

Perhaps Tormund does not know his letters well, but he understands people too well, because he knew Jon needed an out and that their men needed to see the prince they were fighting with. Needed to bond with him. 

And, it is a they are fighting — almost at sunset — that Samwell reaches them out of breath and red in the face. Jon, who is fighting against Tormund, hand-to-hand turns to him as his friend gets him in headlock facing the young scrivener.

«Aye, Samwell» he asks, unimpressed with the stance they are in «what can I help you with?» 

Samwell looks a bit peeved out by the scene but recovers quickly «There is someone here to see you, _mein Prinz_ » he says «they claim to bring news of dame Daenerys, news you'd want to hear»

Jon blinks, then elbows Tormund in the side so strong that his friend stumbles a couple of steps back, his hold becoming lax around his neck, Jon uses that to turn in his hold and head-butt him, making him stumble again. 

Jon holds a hand up and Tormund snorts «Fine, _hübsche Prinzessin_ » he says «let's go hear this news about your dame.» he adds gesturing with a hand. 

Jon uses a cloth to wipe away the sweat off his forehead and neck then nods to Samwell « _Danke_ , Samwell» he offers «please, lead the way» 

When they enter the tent, he finds himself face to face with someone he would not expect. It's a man — a man that could easily be his father — and a child with dark toned skin, big golden eyes and curly hair sticking in every direction on her head.   
  
«Welcome» he offers in german «to whom do I speak?» he wonders. 

The child looks at the man as if she doesn't understand what Jon has just said and the man translates it to her in turkish. Only then does she nods. 

«My name» the man, clearly a knight, says «is ser Jorah Mormont» 

Jon knows that name. And not for a good reason. His father had wanted Jorah Mormont's head sometime when he had been but a child because the man had caught thieves in his home and he had later sold them to slavers instead of asking for justice to his liege, the duke of Swabia. 

His uncle, Conrad, though had decreed the man to be exiled from Swabia and the germans territories under penalty of death. Jon had never known why. 

«Ah» the man comments «I see my fame precedes me» he doesn't look neither sorry nor particularly repentant. 

Jon sets his jaw «What do you want from me, Mormont?» he says, distaste evident in his voice «If you think I will pardon you and your crimes because of some news you claim to have, you've come to the wrong _Prinz_ » he adds «be grateful we aren't in german territory or I would have called for a block as soon as you had introduced yourself» 

«I care nothing for your pardon, _Prinz_ » the man deadpans «besides, I am not the one carrying the news you are searching for» he adds «she is» he says nodding to the young child. 

«And I should believe an exiled and disgraced knight and a child who doesn't, probably, know better?» he demands walking with big, purposeful steps to his uncle's chair, sitting on it his jaw set, his back straight and his gaze unyielding. 

«The child has no guilt over my sins, _Prinz_ » the knight says, without even glancing at Tormund who is looking as dangerous as he can in the background. There is a whine outside the tent and Jon whistles. 

Ghost comes inside and pads to him, looking dead in the face their guests with his blood red eyes. Jon whistles again and the wolfhound reaches him, sitting on his rear paws beside the throne, Jon burrows a hand in his white fur and looks at them unimpressed. 

«Very well» he concedes «and what news does this child bring to me of my betrothed?» he questions.

  
The child, clearly understanding by his gaze she is being addressed turns to ser Jorah and awaits for him to translate. The man is surprisingly gentle in the manner he uses with the child. 

He stands back and watches him before translating what the girl has asked him «Missandei would like to come closer, with you permission»

Jon looks the girl over, the fleeting thought she can be sent to kill him passes through his mind, but he also remembers he has Ghost right next to him, ready to tear to shreds whoever would dare to touch him. He nods and gestures for her to come closer. 

She's holding something in her hand. She gingerly, with trembling hands offers it to him. Jon takes it and inspects it. It's a rosary made of gold, silver and motherpearl. It's very beautiful and kind of familiar though he can't seem to be able to place where he might have seen it. He looks in her golden orbs and is about to ask her about it when the girl nudges his hand — the one holding the rosary — and says only one word.

«Daenerys»

Jon looks up to ser Jorah «Is this dame Daenerys' rosary?» he asks, looking down at it again. Might it be possible she was wearing it in the painting they sent to him when they first broached talk of their betrothal? 

The man nods «Aye» he says «It's dame Daenerys — he confirms— she's very affectionated to it, since it was her mother's.» he adds. 

Jon gingerly twists it in his hands and looks at the child again «Why does she have it?»

Missandei looks back at ser Jorah as he translates for her, then she replies and the knight translates for him «Missandei was supposed to escape with her»

«Escape?» Jon blinks unsure.

«Aye» ser Jorah nods «dame Daenerys...when she learned that someone had come demanding her release, believing it must be her brother Rhaegar, she decided to try and escape and planned to run away from the sultan's palace» he says «I was part of that plan, Missandei was too, but sultan Drogo must have found out somehow» he adds «Missandei was late by pure chance and she has seen what has happened»

Jon looks at the child then back at the man «What happened?» he asks feeling his stomach twists and his fury raise. 

Ser Jorah looks down «I was at my post, waiting for them outside the servants quarters, dame Daenerys, her loyal handmaidens, Missandei and commander Leonardo were supposed to meet me there» he explained «instead sultan Drogo had one of her handmaidens beaten and captured dame Daenerys, the girls and commander Leonardo»

He looks at the child once again «What happened, child?» he asks kindly, the girl looks back at the knight and when he translates she tries to explain herself passing between turkish and italian and gesturing with her hands.

He looks at ser Jorah «He had her beaten and imprisoned» the man confirms «or tha is the voice that runs in the palace» he adds «Missandei was not present in the _divan_ room when dame Daenerys was questioned» he explains «Dame Daenerys was clever enough to leave the rosary for Missandei to take with her, because she believed it would have meant something for her brother since she didn't, doesn't yet, know about you»

 _Would you tell me about her, so that I know what to expect?_  
… _She's daring_ , and how could a woman capable of trying to escape her prison, instead of waiting in her tower, be anything but daring?

Jon looks a the child again. She asks a question and before ser Jorah can traslate, it's Samwell who does it «She asks if you will save her» 

Jon looks at the girl in her big, golden eyes overrode with worry and concern for the woman he is supposed to marry. 

«I came all this way exactly for that, child» he promises «I will save her, I promise» 

Missandei doesn't seem to need a translation for that because she closes her small hand over his, her gaze hopeful « _Grazie_ » 

Jon knows italian, albeit he cannot speak it very well, because his uncle is also king of Italy. 

« _Grazie a te,_ Missandei» he offers instead. 

_She's joyful, kind...she has a gentle heart and is as stubborn as a mule._

He turns to the man again «What do you think the sultan is planning?» he asks, the man shrugs.

«Sultan Drogo is a great warrior, but not a great tactician» he offers «he is strong in battle, but not overly fond of schemes. If you pit intelligence against his brute force you may even win»

Jon nods and then dismisses them, ordering Samwell to find Missandei a safe place to stay – the scrivener offers him to send her to his home, in Antioch with the women they were meaning to send there – and Jon says he will think it over. 

Ser Jorah is welcome to stay as long as he stays away from them and fights against the Turkmen.

Tormund walks close to him «What are you thinking?» he asks. 

Jon gingerly wraps the rosary around his hand, then fists it and brings it to his chin and mouth. There is an underlying perfume, notes of a flowery scent, a _sweet_ scent that reminds of him of that dream he had had in Regensburg just before departing, after he had become duke of Swabia at his father's death. 

He says nothing.

Tormund knows him too well not to catch the meaning his set jaw and white-knuckled fist foretell.

«You're gonna kill him, ain't ya?» he asks.

Jon just looks at him, pouring every ounce of strength and hate in his next words, his hands trembling as he controls his anger «I'm gonna show him hell's fire, that is what I'm going to do»

 _Resist, mein Mädchen mit der Lilie_ , he thinks, _I'm coming._

* * *

**German translations**

_Mein Prinz:_ my prince

 _Danke:_ thanks

 _mein_ _hübsche Prinzessin:_ my pretty princess

 _mein Mädchen mit der Lilie:_ my girl/maiden with the lily

**Italian translations**

_Grazie:_ Thank You

 _Grazie a te:_ Thank to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo.... Jon is barely containing his anger, he is so furious he can scarcely talk...Tormund knows what's up and will surely be there every step of the way. Say hello to Samwell, I could not have him in this fic, same as I could not leave Tormund behind. 
> 
> What do you think will happen now? 
> 
> Let me know what you think of it! As always sending all my love -G.

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is the first chapter of the story, I hope you liked it!
> 
> Let me know what you think of it, if you want. Sending all my love -G.


End file.
